Eye on the Prize
by KT SHY
Summary: When Sauron switches bodies with Frodo, it’s an all out race against time (with the Fellowship on his heels) to get the Ring back to Mordor! NEW: Act 16: Leaving Amber-lei and the Crossing to Gondor: In which stuff happens. Oh, so much stuff! Please RnR
1. Hubris

Disclaimer: Characters and places from The Lord Of The Rings belong to the master storyteller of all time: J.R.R Tolkien. God bless.

The author note of KT SHY: Hi there. This was originally an idea I intended to turn into a comic… but considering my procrastinating habits and my super ability to lose interest in a project within a matter of days… uh… um… I kinda forgot the whole point I was trying to make… 

Snappy Title Goes Here

erm…

Eye on the Prize

(shrug)…. Why not?

__

Act I: Hubris

Barad-dûr stood at the heart of Mordor looking for all the world like a black tear falling from a cracked and aged face. Unimaginably frightening creatures patrolled its large parameters, but these were nothing compared to the horror that awaited within… The Eye of Sauron. Sauron, the big scary eye, hovered a few feet off the floor in the darkest, evilest room in the Dark Tower, staring - for that is really all he could do - at a book that the Witch-King was holding open for him. 

'… and they lived happily, ever after. The end.' the leader of the Nazgûl concluded.

'That was most unsatisfactory,' came Sauron's response. Lord knows how the words were even able to carry as the Mouth of Sauron was out T.P.ing Orthanc at that very moment as per Sauron's orders. There really wasn't much for a big disembodied eye to do by ways of entertainment. He was still waiting for The Nine to return with this "_Baggins of the Shire_" in their custody and needed something to bide his time. Currently he was in the process of reading from his vast collection of books in backwards alphabetical order.

'… if I had written the story, the wolf would have sautéed those damn pigs along with the idiots who would sell building materials to swine in the first place! Spares a few less fools I'd have to worry about subjugating.' 

'Of course my Lord and Master,' said the Witch-King - the eternal "Yes-man".

'No matter.' spoke the Dark Lord, 'Moving on…'

The Witch-King lifted up a large and dusty book entitled "_The Thaumaturgical Guide to Dark Sorcery and Evil Things in General_." The words on the cover and within were lettered in scarlet, looking suspiciously as if they had been etched in blood. The pages were worn and yellow - some falling out when the Witch-King opened the book. He droned on in a hissy monotone, and Sauron was on the verge of taking a light nap (or more accurately resting his eye) when something caught his interest. 

'What, what, what?' 

The Witch-King jumped, 'Sire?'

'Reread that last passage!' Sauron demanded. The Nazgûl leader did so, and Sauron promptly dismissed him to give himself some time to think. _So,_ he thought to himself, _the power to traverse in dreams…_

He never finished the thought, for at that very moment, news was brought to him of the Nazgûl's defeat at the Ford of Rivendell. The echoes of his furious shriek resounded throughout Mordor causing orcs to fall on their knees in fear, soiling their loincloths in the process.

For days Sauron ping-ponged off the walls, floors and ceilings of Barad-dûr, mowing down random orcs in his fervor. _Where in the riggin friggin world was that damn Ring!?!? _He'd sent scouts everywhere but as long as the Ring remained unworn he wouldn't be able to find the Ring Bearer except by chance._ The nerve of that little rat Baggins hobbit thingy! _He could just picture the smug look on the Ring Bearer's face. _"Weeee!"_ he would say, _"I beat the big bad Saaaaaauron! You know whyyyyy?" _and his sucky friends would say, _"Whyyyyyy?" _and he would say _"Cuz he's just a big fat stupid eyeball, and um… he sucks!" _They would laugh then, and Sauron gritted non-existent teeth as their mockery filled his mind. _"We out-smarted Sauron, we…"_

"IN YOUR DREAMS YOU STUPID LITTLE…" Sauron froze. _Dreams._ There was something there, something turning the cogs within his brain. If he'd still had a face, the expression passing it at that very moment would have chilled the marrow of even his own master, Melkor.

'Oh yes,' Sauron hissed, 'You're mine for sure.'

***

Miles and miles away in a small inn in a small town, Frodo Baggins, the hobbity Ring Bearer, stirred in his sleep.

***

The Witch King - now official book holder - held open "_The Thaumaturgical Guide to Dark Sorcery and Evil Things in General." _Sauron hovered at the center of a huge magic circle etched into the stone floor. The spell he was preparing to cast was a daring one with no full guarantee of success. In theory, the_"Ream-day-Vasion-Inay"_ while not allowing him to physically find the Ring Bearer would allow the all-powerful being of terror and evil to invade even the sweetest of the small creature's dreams. From there, a swapping of souls would commence… once again only in theory.

'Still my lord, does this not seem a little too convenient?' whined the Witch King.

'Of COURSE it does! Now shyadap.'

Sauron focused on the un-holy script scratched and spattered across the pages. He spoke aloud words too evil to be written here, and sent forth his mind to find the one he had touched so many times before with the aid of the Ring. 

***

Meanwhile, Frodo was nestled safely within some inane dream while visions of mushrooms danced in his head. They wore grass skirts and chanted and hopped around Frodo who was tied to a poll in the middle of their circle. The largest mushroom turned to him then.

'The verdict has been passed! How do you plead!?!?!?'

Frodo, wearing a white lawyer's wig, stared down at the mushroom, 'That I'm as stubborn' as a mule and twice as sexy!!!'

'Ha!' retorted the mushroom leader, 'For that you face death by pickles!!!!!'

But just at that very moment the eye of Sauron fazed into the dream and stared down at Frodo.

__

You cannot hide…

'Peachy keen with butter and beans!!!' shouted the hobbit who was now paddling down a rapid river in a leaky canoe while wearing a squirrel costume. At the end of the river were two doors with "vacant" signs posted on them. One was shaped like a giant red eye and one like a blue mushroom. Frodo sped toward the doors.

'If you find the way to…' but whatever would have been said next was cut off as Sauron pried him out of the boat with an oar and into the water which felt disturbingly similar to melted cheese. Then the eyeball zoomed by mwa-ha-ha-ing like there was no tomorrow and barrelled right through the mushroom shaped door. As the door closed there was a barely audible _click _and a red "occupied" sign flashed into view. Frodo swam in painfully slow motion toward the other door, the red eye-shaped one, and opened it…

Darkness awaited within.

Frodo awoke with a start and… no… it wasn't Frodo at all… it was Sauron now. Sauron, wearing Frodo's form sat with eyes glued shut with sleep - an unfamiliar sensation - in a soft bed - yet another strange phenomenon. Instinct led the hands to fumble toward the neck where a familiar presence alighted. 

The Ring. 

He didn't have to see it to know it was there. For the first time in centuries he felt whole again - more whole than usual at any rate. When he opened his eyes he had to shut them again against the pain. Everything seemed too large and close to be real. He was used to being able to stretch his sight around the world, but everything here was so blatantly in his face. 

When he finally adjusted, he started to take in his surroundings. He was in a wooden room that was faintly lit by a dying fire in the corner. A smoky cedar scent permeated the air while the musical sound of crickets drifted in from the half open window. The drapes rustled lightly in the soft breeze. 

Sauron's cold gaze then took in the room's occupants. Three small figures sprawled across three small beds snoring contentedly and looking for all the world like little children. He grimaced at the sight of a fare-haired elf in an oversized nightcap sleeping (or more accurately lying in a frozen state of being pretty) in the biggest, fluffiest bed in the room. Two figures slouched in two hardback chairs with their heads down on the table in the center of the room. The smaller figure wallowed in a pool of his own drool while the other muttered and chuckled evilly in his sleep. Sauron then turned to look toward the fire.

The Dark Lord stiffened for a moment upon recognizing Gandalf as the one who had been poking about his dungeons when Sauron had still been known as the "_Necromancer_." The Istari sat in a high-back armchair facing the large fireplace, embers glowing faintly on the hearth. His long snowy mane flowed down to where his hands rested loosely upon the crumpled hat on his lap. Sauron relaxed slightly when he realized that the wizard was asleep; the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest (and the torrential billowing of his nose hairs) gave that much away. Sauron moved stealthily now, pink polka-dot pa-jammies melting into the shadows that criss-crossed the room. 

Clutching the Ring in a tight grip, he reached the door and edged it open softly. Ah ha! Freedom! So giddy was the Dark Lord that he failed to notice that he wasn't alone in the shadowy corridor until a strong yet surprisingly gentle grip fastened on his shoulder. 

'Uh, eh, eih!' Aragorn chided, 'Where do you think your going at this hour, Frodo?'

'Duhhhhh… ummmm… uhhhh...' Sauron was so shocked upon recognizing Isildur's heir that he couldn't think of anything to say, and before he knew it he was steered back into the room with a cup of warm milk and a plate of cookies. This would not do, there'd be no possible way to escape as long as the Ranger stood guard outside of the door. Sauron wouldn't be able to leave as soon as he had hoped.

The morning after found the fellowship and Sauron-in-Frodo's-form enjoying (or in Sauron's case, not enjoying) a warm breakfast before they had to set off for an insane amount of travelling that day. Despite the hobbit's general fondness for meals, Merry still managed to feel disgusted watching the quantity of food Pippin shovelled into his gaping maw.

'You know Pippin,' he began, 'one of these days your metabolism's going to catch up with you. It's gonna say "Piiiippiiiiin!" and you're gonna say "Whaaaaaaat?" and it's gonna say "Gotcha!" and then you'll wake up the next day two-hundred pounds over par!'

Pippin shrugged, then reached for the salt. However, as the misfortunes of fate seem to be rather fond of the young hobbit, before his hand even touched the container his arm knocked a glass of water off the table and onto the tiled floor. A serving maid, walking across the room, slipped on the water 'ARGH!' and the tray she carried flew into one of the wall lamps, which fell onto the curtains by the windows which went up in flames in seconds. This caused the Ye Olde sprinkler system to go off, spreading the oil and the fire across the common room. The entire occupancy of the inn managed to escape before the ceilings caved in. The fellowship stood gaping, Pippin wincing each time a wall went down.

Gandalf slammed shut the menu he had still been holding and glared down at Pippin, 'I…hate… youuuuuuuuu!'

They fled before the blame could be placed on them, reasoning that an early start on their journey couldn't hurt, where as the villagers getting their hands on them might. 

After a few days of travel Sauron got used to moving around in hobbit form, and this brought back the old confidence. For days he ranted and berated them…

'You fools do not yet realize it! You have lost! Even now you carve your fate upon the stones of history!'

'Hold up!' Aragorn called to the rest of the group, 'The hobbit's getting over excited again.'

They set their packs down for a much-needed rest while Aragorn turned to Sauron. 'Okay Frodo, what do you want this time? Your squeaky toy?'

He pulled a slobbered up chew toy (that looked like a rubber sea urchin with a happy face) out from of one of the bags. Sauron took no heed and stared straight at the Ranger.

'Dirty mortal! I have told you time and again that you are to address me as Dark Emperor Sau…'

__

squeak, squeak, squeak

'…'

Sauron grabbed the squeaky and Aragorn, heaving a contented sigh, turned to rejoin the others. He had just sat himself beside Legolas when he heard…

__

Squeak, squeak, squeak, *POP* _pssssshhhhhhheeewwwwwwaaaauuuuu…_

This last was the sound of the chew toy being popped and deflated. They all turned then, and stared. Sauron stood holding the limp form of the once lively chew toy in an outstretched hand… the happy rubber urchin would squeak no more.

'Do you think I jest?' The cruel tone seemed so alien coming from Frodo's gentle features.

Sam stifled a sob at what his master had done and Legolas began composing a song of Elvish lament. All of a sudden Boromir stood and stared down at the small creature.

'That's it! We've been very patient with you little one, but now that patience runs thin and you leave us no other alternative.' Boromir's face was grim.

'And what would you do, son of man?' the Dark Lord hissed through Frodo's teeth, cold blue eyes glinting dangerously. 

With lightning reflexes honed and refined by years of intense military training Boromir dove into his pack and whipped out a cat toy (you know, the ones that kinda look like fuzzy Cattails?) and began to waggle it in front of Sauron.

'Do you seriously…!' Sauron began.

__

waggle, waggle, waggle

'…'

Within seconds he was batting at the thing leaving the rest of the fellowship to discuss where they would go next under the guidance of Gandalf.

For seemingly endless days and nights they travelled, trying their very hardest to ignore Sauron who all the while bragged on and on as to what he would do when he was finally in power.

Across the fields to the _base_ of Caradhras he bantered…

'… and when I am at last returned to my throne I will make a mandatory decree for everyone to wear wool sweaters basted in mayonnaise and lard…'

While they plowed through the mounds of drifting snow _atop_ Caradhras… 

'… all the elves will have to shave their heads and the hair will be tied around the columns in Moria so that the dwarves will trip all the time…

And while they ran for their lives across the Bridge of Khazad-Dum…

'… well, I'd better scratch that last plan…'

The events that followed came as a blur for the fellowship members. Gandalf was lost to them and they had to forge on without his guiding hand. It wasn't long before they had wandered into the golden forest of Lothlórien and were made to surrender before an ambush of Elven archers, to be taken to the Lady of the Wood. 

Wise and beautiful was she that was named Galadriel. She stood before the awe-struck group with her companion Celeborn at her side. She addressed their current predicament and looked deeply into the eyes of each member, as if silently weighing their strength and resolve.

__

Alrighty then… what do we have here? Shorty, shorty, shrimpy, ugly, pretty boy, greasy ranger, weasel…

At last she turned her steady blue gaze upon Sauron. 

'… and the Ring Bearer…' but at this she stopped and a slim pale hand shot up to cover the gasp that emitted from the soft curve of her lips. Two pairs of glorious cerulean eyes locked together - one widening in a shocked surprise and the other narrowing into a feral leer.

Sauron's smile was cruel and cold. 'So, you recognize me elf-witch?'

'You…' her voice trembled softly, '… you……………………… are so cute!' And with one swift motion that startled even Celeborn she had scooped up the little creature into a cuddle. 

Celeborn and Gimli were livid with jealousy while Aragorn and Boromir stared at Galadriel dumbfounded and Legolas cast about in a vain attempt to locate a reflective surface of some kind. Sauron's (well, actually Frodo's) jaw dropped. 

'You're like the son I always wanted!' Galadriel smiled. 'But what did I get instead? That sucky son-in-law of mine Elrond, and his daughter and two dim-witted sons who NEVER write me back by the way… and blah, blah, blah…' on and on she went.

Their stay at Lothlórien was restful. But while the aches and pains of their bodies were cured, a much deeper ache persisted, for even the splendour of the golden wood could not soothe their grief at the loss of Gandalf. 

They were all - except Sauron of course - reluctant to leave when the time finally came. Boats were made ready for their departure along the Great River. Galadriel stood resplendent in a flowing gown of purest white, her golden hair catching the sunlight that faded in streams through the tree top canopy. One by one she handed out gifts to the members of the fellowship.

'Ooh! Thanks!'

'Thankee.'

'Much thanks.'

'But I already have a belt!'

'Can it Pippin.'

Then she turned to Sauron. 'And you, Ring Bearer. In this Phial is caught the light of Earendil's star, set amid the waters of my fountain. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.'

Sauron held the Phial in Frodo's small hands, the expression on his face impossible to decipher. But Galadriel was not yet finished.

'And here are some cookies I baked you.' Her face was still serious as she held out the warm tray, 'You're painfully thin for a hobbit. And I made some ginger snacks. You'll need some of these sugar sweets too. You gotta get all nice and chubby for nana Gala, o-tay?'

Already aboard their boats, the other three hobbits stared enviously at the goodies piled in his hands. 'Booooo!' 'Hisssssss!' 'Grrrrr!'

The Dark Lord stuck out his tongue. 'You ain't getting ANY!' 

After hours and hours and hours and hours of rowing along the Great River they hit shore and everyone got out of the boats to stretch cramped muscles. Sauron looked to the Eastern Shore on the other side, towards Mordor. He fingered the Ring around his neck and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. Soon, very soon he would be back in his Dark Tower, Barad-dûr. There he would reclaim what was left of his body and the Ring would at last be his. Then there would be no stopping him.

He looked back at the fellowship who were setting up camp along the shore. He would have to get away from them in order to accomplish his plan, but he needed to get to their boats. The chance would have to come sooner or later. So he waited… 

Sauron volunteered to take first watch and under the cover of night he stole away from the sleeping forms, secured a boat, and rowed silently to the other side. 

It was done. 

All he had to do now was enter the borders of Mordor. His Nazgul would surely recognize their master no matter what form he wore. They may even have felt his presence already and were riding hard on whatever beasts they now manned, ready to escort him back to the Dark Tower - an idea he rather preferred to the long trek that otherwise awaited him. He would have to hurry before the group on the Western Shore realized he had gone.

Meanwhile…

Frodo Baggins, the giant floating eye of Mordor, was having the time of his life. He'd gotten The Nine, as well as a handful of scary orcs, to dress up and play stage-show for the last couple of weeks. They'd already gone through "The Wraith of the Opera-type-establishment", "Mama Maiar," and "alqua aelin" (badly translated elvish for "swan lake") to name a few. At the present moment they were yowling up a storm dressed up in poorly made dog costumes performing "Waargs." 

__

Ahh, good times, good times, the giant eye thought to himself.

The denizens of Mordor weren't so bad once you got to know them…

***

After all this time it was still difficult to move around in the hobbit body. Sauron sprinted, ran, and stumbled until he collided into something large. Both figures went down. Sauron blinked.

'006!' he stammered. 

'Call me Bori.'

Boromir got up, brushing off the dirt and leaves, and helped the hobbit to his feet. This wasn't working well for Sauron. He needed to get back to Mordor, now, and there was no way Boromir would just let him take off.

'What are you doing out here?' the Dark Lord demanded.

Boromir paused - he had been about to ask the hobbit the same question - then looked hurriedly around. 'Um… I… uh…' He spotted a rock. 'I'm collecting rocks! Yeah, that's it. Rocks… to build a fire. Yeeeeaaah, that's the ticket.' 

He started gathering rocks, but Sauron wasn't buying any of it. 

'You wish an audience with me, worm?'

Boromir smiled a friendly smile - which made him look creepy instead - and turned to face the halfling.

'It's just that, we are now at the fork of our journey and a choice must be made.' the larger figure began. 'Surely it is utter madness and folly to go to Mordor where the Ring may very well be taken, why not come to Minas Tirith…'

'No.' the Dark Lord's words were flat and final.

'You should…'

'Nuh-uh.'

'But if you would just…'

'Nope.'

'Now see here…'

'No way. Nada.'

'…'

Boromir dropped to his knees and opened up his travel bag. He then grabbed Sauron by the scruff of the neck and stuffed him in the bag.

'Right.' Boromir resumed, shouldering the pack and standing straight and proud, 'To Minas Tirith.'

'That's IT!' came a muffled growl from within the bag, 'You're going down!'

To be continued…

(eventually)

**WARNING! SHAMELESS PLUG ALLERT! WARNING! SHAME… **

Oh turn off you stupid…(click)… there we go.

Hey, if you liked that then head on over to the Harry Potter section and read "The House that Riddle Crashed At." Good times and happiness abound, I guarantee it. 

More author notes from KT SHY: Alrighty, that's done. I just wanted to crack this sucker out as fast as I could to get it out of my head. I have absolutely no idea what's going on in this story (that's what makes it fun) or where it's going, so it may take a while before I continue if I actually do (though I can't just leave it hanging… or can I?). I'm listening to the LOTR soundtrack and weeping openly right now (track 17 will do that to ya). I realize I played fast and loose with the story but guess what? This IS a fanfic! Soooo… yeah! Feel free to review, but please, if you have nothing nice to say, it's better to say nothing at all. Thanks. 


	2. Catharsis

Disclaimer: Characters and places from The Lord Of The Rings belong to the master storyteller of all time: J.R.R Tolkien. God bless.

KT SHY: Well, well, well! So you're back for more eh? Excellent. I fear this chapter is much shorter than the last, but cut me some slack, I'm busssssy! Enough whining. Alrighty, I wanna say thanks to the reviewers! I was really surprised I got even one review, but six!? Wow! Thank you to Moose of Doom, moi, Herodias, Starbrat, MelodySongSinger, and JadeownerofCATBoy!!!!! Thank you all sooooo much!!! ^_^

Eye On the Prize

_Act II: Catharsis_

In the heart of Mordor where evil does not sleep, where danger awaits with eager fangs and where those that enter do so with little hope, dwelt the Eye. No, not the Evil Eye of Sauron, this impressive visage was the Happy Eye of Frodo. Frodo was bouncing all around Barad-dûr as happy as an uneaten clam. Having found the dark cold stone too uninviting and impersonal, his hobbit-sense kicked in and he got all his minions to begin the redecoration process. Bright green and yellow trappings now adorned the walls, and the stone floors had been replaced by softwood. Every window had been thrown open to clear out the stuffiness, and the warm breeze felt nice on those who had skin to enjoy it. 

Suddenly an irritating beeping noise disturbed Frodo in the midst of interior-decoration mode.

'What in the world is that?' he asked.

'That would be the Palantír, my Lord.' replied the Witch-King

'Um…. yes? Good?'

The Witch-King sighed. 'This way, sire.' 

The Palantír sat on a dais in the middle of a room Frodo had never popped into before. It shone with a dark and mysterious power, and yes, it was the source of the noise.

'So………… what does it do?'

'Sire, it's a communication devise. Simply will it to open before you. I believe this call comes straight from Orthanc.'

'………right. Okay. Here goes!'

Frodo looked into the Palantír, and jumped back when he saw the face at the other end.

'EEK! Gandalf!? No wait… you're much scarier, and he's not _that_ yucky at all!'

'WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO… ahem… I mean, greetings o' great Lord of all Dark Lords.' said Saruman in his usual smarmy tone.

'Hi!'

'My Lord, I've just called to confirm the orders you sent me when last we spoke. Section 23 of plan C seems better fit to be replaced by plan D with the sporadic way things are running here in Isengard, wouldn't you agree my Lord?'

_Okay, _Frodo thought quickly to himself, _they think I'm a dark lord, so now's the time to act it._

'Do not contend to believe that you may change the plans without my initial command knave!' _Oh nice!_

Saruman paled considerably, 'My Lord, I apologize, but…'

'There are NO buts in Mordor! _Snicker. _Thou shall now change to Plan E section 2 in replace of… err… earlier said… plannings.'

'Plan E section 2!? Setting a pack of Piranha-poodles against Gondor!? My Lord, I…'

'Against Gondor?  Wait… what are we talking about?' Frodo was beginning to feel ill at ease.

'Well, the war plans of course…' Saruman began.

'Oh, um, I have important things to do now. Bye!' Frodo broke the connection, cutting off Saruman's confused stammers.

'War plans? He called about war plans?' Frodo would have shivered if he still had his body, a cold dread starting to build within. It was starting to dawn on him that maybe he was in something a little over his head… more so than usual at any rate.

***

'This is getting more and more undignified by the moment!' whined Boromir from where he hung in the air, legs caught in a bear trap that suspended from a tall tree branch. 

'Not to mention I don't even know _how_ it was physically possible for you to pull this off, Frodo!'

Sauron in Frodo's form looked up from where he sat on the ground rummaging through Boromir's bag. He narrowed his eyes, 'You try my patience, mortal. Have I not informed you to call me Sauron!?'

'Umm… Frodo?'

Sauron stood up, 'No. Not Frodo, _"Sauron,"_ say it with me. _"Saaaaauuron!"_'

'Sss….ssssss…..sssssssssssss…Srodo!'

'I suppose that will do for now.' The Dark Lord in the hobbit body grimaced as he tossed the bag aside. 

'Anyway,' Boromir continued, 'Puhleeeeeeeeeease let me down?'

Sauron scoffed, 'Tell me human, have you always been this obnoxious?'

'Hmmmm…' Boromir thought back…

**Flash back twenty years**

Boromir's younger brother Faramir traced a pointer along red marked road lines on a large strategy chart, '… and so father, by taking this route we can assure a maximum and unfailing vantage point with zero loss for out own forces…'

Denethor stirred in the cushy armchair, 'Zzzzzz…zzkx… shadap punk I'm trying to sleep here!'

Suddenly Boromir - who is the older brother by the way - ran into the room with a cooking pot on his head.

'Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!'

Denethor leapt to attention.

'Look what I can do!' and Boromir proceed to do his happy dance.

'BWA HA HA! That's my boy all right!' Denethor beamed.

'I luv you daddy!'

'You make me proud to be a father, my dear son.'

Father and son gazed at each other as the sun rose to peer through the eastern windows; tears of joy fell from Denethor's eyes. Then they embraced.

Faramir clicked his previously dropped jaw back in place as his mother came around the corner.

'Denethor, honey,' Mrs. Boromir's-Mom beckoned to her husband, 'why don't you take your two sons to the park to play?'

'I have _two_ sons!?!?'

**End flashback**

'Um… anyway… let me down?'

'No, it suits my purpose better if you stay right where you are.' said Sauron. 'Ta ta!' and with that he headed east once again, toward the borders of Mordor… or he would have if three small creatures hadn't ran up to him at that point.

'Hey! Frodo! Hi! Hi! Where ya' goin'?' Pippin was jumping all over the place.

'Come on cousin Frodo! You can't leave without us! Lead the way and we'll follow!' said Merry while trying to chase Pippin down.

'Um, really I have no time…' Sauron began, when Sam plowed into him.

'I made a promise Mr. Frodo! A promise! (choke)(sob) "Don't you leave him Samwise Gamgee," and I don't mean to! (sniffle) I don't mean to!'

'ARGH! Get off me puny creature!' Sauron raged (Dark Lords are apt to emotional constipation).

Then Gimli walked into the clearing with a crown of daisies resting on top of his warrior helmet, but a gauntlet-covered hand quickly disposed of them before the others noticed.

'Whoops! Heh. Don't mind me fellas! Hey, is this hobbit-talk? Can I join?'

The Dark Lord lost his last shred of patience.

Sauron lashed out with a speed that belied Frodo's small frame. In quick succession he grabbed Merry, Pippin, and Sam by the collar of their shirts with one hand; stepped on Gimli's foot so that his mouth opened wide in a holler of pain; and shoved the hobbits down his throat. He then sped out of the clearing as fast as his little feet would take him.

He had not been running long when another snag in his brilliant Escape-to-Mordor plan popped up. The treetop canopy let slivers of golden light dance off the creek and across the faces of the two figures that stood in his path. The light elf and the dark ranger advanced forward.

'Frodo, we really need to discuss your recent behavior.' said Legolas.

Sauron clenched his teeth and looked wildly from Aragorn to Legolas. There was no escaping this time.

Meanwhile…

Back in the clearing the three slobbered up hobbits stared at Gimli.

'HOW in Ilúvatar's name are you able to open your mouth so big!?' cried Merry.

'Well,' said Gimli with a musing look on his face, 'it's a long story dating back to an erotic dwarvish courting custom…'

A mental image of Gimli grinning seductively and waggling his big red eyebrows at a female dwarf - who looked exactly like him except for the lipstick and a pink dress and ribbon combo - lodged itself in Sam's brain.

'AIEEEEEEE!' he screamed, 'Get out of my head!!!!!'

Pippin winced, 'That is _so _wrong…'

To be continued…

KT SHY: Well! How was that? Hope you found it as amusing to read as I did to write! Tell you the truth I should not even be WRITING right now! ARGH! I'm in ISU crunch time! I have a law paper due! I have to train for track! I need to finish a poster for a contest! Why am I even complaining right now!? Puh-lease review! ^_^ Ciao for now!


	3. Pathos

Wow! Ten reviews!! You people are what makes life worth living! Thanks VERY much! Alianai I luv ya and can't wait fer your fic to come out (I'll make a toast for you in Barlis, girl! See ya there! meep meep) Thanks to loyal return readers: Starbrat, Herodias, and MelodySongSinger (how could I refuse such a subtle request? And yes, pills are nice… lol). Hmmm… reviews are like the coal for my creative engine… me still hungry. My collaborator in all things evil, Shag Dowg, figured that I'd get even more reviews if I started with some Fan Service in my chapters, you know, reel in the young male audience and such… Let's see what happens…

Eye on the Prize

_Act III Pathos_

ARWEN APPLIED IRISH SPRING SOAP TO HERSEEEEEELLLLFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

_Meanwhilst…_

Sauron looked from the ranger to the elf and clenched his teeth. There would be no easy escape for him this time. All was still save for the rustle of greenery and the soft solitary cry of a morning dove coming from somewhere up above. Shadows cast from tall trees made dark patchy patterns that swayed from side to side upon the ground.

'Look Fro-boy, ol' buddy, ol' pal.' Legolas began, voice cutting the silence, 'This really isn't anything personal, it's just that we think you're completely unfit and totally unworthy to be the Ring Bearer anymore.'

'You've been showing some rather sadistic tendencies,' Aragorn continued, 'I don't think the Ring is very healthy for you to hang onto anymore. Believe me when I say _I_ honestly _don't_ want to be the one to carry it, but I'd rather _I_ take it than trust it to an unreliable Ring Bearer when we're so close to Mordor's bordors.'

Legolas nodded in agreement. Sauron was starting to panic a little bit, the call of the Ring filled his head.

_Master! Lord and Master, let not our separation once again commence at the hand of these knaves!_

'I won't.' His response was as much towards the Ring as it was to the dynamic duo accosting him. Hobbit senses tingled and mingled into Dark Lord reflexes and Sauron slid easily into a stance of power. Aragorn and Legolas tensed, unsure of what to expect. Sauron started to shake slightly and a fiery aura encircled his small frame. Aragorn took up a fighting stance and Legolas fidgeted with his bowstring. Cruel eyes snapped open making the smile Sauron bore all the more lethal. He balled his hands into fists, dug his feet into the ground, and…………………………………. ran like hell!

Aragorn and Legolas stood alone in the clearing still staring at the little puffs of smoke the Dark Lord left in his wake.

***

Sauron jogged a bit to get the stitch out of his side, breathing ragged and hoarse. His tongue stuck to the back of his throat, and he was generally having the worst day of his unnatural life... well one of the worst anyway.

_Much gratitude must I extend onto thee my Lord and Master,_ said the Ring_,__ Woe would have overflown my cup had you…_

'Shut it!'

_Can do.___

Sauron finally saw what he had been looking for, a small pool, and he ran over to it. The water was sweet and clean – not that evil overlords generally enjoy those types of things – and in a moment he was breathing normal again.Then he noticed the sun. Its reflection had only been a nuisance at first, but then something had clicked in his mind and he threw his gaze upwards with a curse. The sun was directly over head - meaning it was noon and time for a good lunch - but it was directly overhead! There was no way he could tell which was north, south, east, or west if the stupid, stupid sun was directly over head! It was all he had to guide by, as the trees were so tall that all earth bound landmarks were hidden from view. He rubbed at his eyes to get rid of all the spotches that come to those dumb enough to stare at the sun for more than a few seconds, and stumbled around growling.

The ranger and the elf would have come upon him totally unaware if not for the heightened senses Frodo's ears had gained from months of holding onto the Ring. They were stealthy, but Sauron picked up the tell tale signs a few second before they slid across the clearing with cat-like strength and grace, it was enough time for him to dive into a bush, using the hobbit ability to seemingly disappear into the natural environment. Legolas' hearing was even better though, and he pointed toward the general direction that Sauron lay hidden, Aragorn following the tracks as easily as… well… a Ranger following tracks.

The last thought Sauron had before the strong, callused hand grabbed him was, 'Of course I just _had _to have been chased down by an elf and a Ranger. Go me.'

***

Boromir still hung suspended upside-down above the forest floor. He was, he realized, in a bit of a predicament. On the one hand he was getting extremely light-headed (more so than usual) and on the other, if he cut the rope with the sword that hung at his side he would land head first on the ground. That wasn't even mentioning the 800-pound Grizzly bear that sat at the base of the tree looking quizzically up at him. But his head was aching something fierce, and he couldn't stand it much longer…

'Good thing daddy isn't here to see this… I'd be sooooo embarrassed!'

***

'Come now, hand over the Ring. I mean to take it anyway but I'd rather you just give it up peacefully.' The Ranger still had a strong one handed grip on Sauron's shoulder.

'Um, how about no, no, and um, no!' snapped Sauron.

'That's it! Fork it over!' Aragorn reached for the cord that held the Ring when Legolas suddenly jumped to his feet.

At that exact moment a patrol of heavily armed super-sized orcs crashed into the clearing. Their small beady eyes focused on the three travellers and they snarled and grinned in triumph.

'Yeah, whatever.' Legolas lobbed a volley of arrows at them.

'Hold them off for a second!' Aragorn called to the elf as he hauled the hobbit off his feet and made a dash in the other direction. They too, however, were intercepted by an orc troop before they fled the clearing. Aragorn cursed and grabbed up his blade with one hand, the bright metal slicing the air with a hiss. Sauron looked from his captor to the orc troop and back. He kicked the Ranger hard in the ribs and rolled under a leafy bush as soon as he was dropped. Aragorn made a vain attempt to go after, but had to shift his focus to fighting off his aggressors instead.

***

Sauron came out the other side and down a hill with clothes torn and skin scratched, but he didn't care. His minions had come for him! They must have finally been sent by the Witch King, which had been planned at the beginning of this whole crazy scheme. This battalion would surely take him back to the Dark Tower. He ran down, leaping over roots and stones, stirring up leaves off the ground. Just ahead another orcish squad marched and he called out to it ecstatically. It wasn't until the group turned and started charging up to him that he realized something was wrong. Instead of the Red Eye, Sauron's symbol, which should have adorned their armor, these wore the White Hand.

'These aren't my troops.' He realized with a start. 'They aren't mine!'

Time seemed to drag by slowly as he spun on his heel and reached down to grab the Ring where it hung around his neck. In his haste he ripped it free from its cord and jabbed his nearest finger toward it. Before he could put it on, the hilt of an orc's blade smashed into the side of his skull and sparks flashed behind his eyes. The last thing he saw before the world went silent, was a glimmer of gold as the Ring fell away from him and into the darkness.

To be continued…

KT SHY: Oh, ouch! Cliffhanger endings, don't you just hate those? Mua ha ha. Well, I finished my law ISU and so have a _little_ more free time on my hands. Ta dah! I'll dish out the next chapter sooner or later. You know, taking long walks with yer dog through the woods is a great way to get inspired. After Act one I was totally at a loss for what was to follow. I took one walk with Dusty, and voila. The entire plot of Eye on the Prize pops into my brain (as simple sketches, mind you.) Thanks for reading! Hope you've enjoyed it thus far – reviews are a great way to show it (wink wink, nudge nudge).

Say no more.

Luv KT SHY


	4. Insert cool title

KT SHY: MAN! It's been a while! Meh heh heh. It's a ridiculously wavy night out and the waves are SO loud but the stars are waaay brighter here than in the city. S'great fer inspiration… RIGHT! Okay, special thanks goes out to reviewers Herodias, Yuriko, and MelodySongSinger (you always write me such lovely reviews, sniff). Sammykins! Who luvs ya babe? And special, special thanks goes to the ever generous Starbrat who graciously forgave the delay :P. OH! You guys see the LOTR dvd yet? Yeaaaah! S'great! Can't wait fer the one that comes out in November… looks pretty tasty! ^_^

Disclaimer: The Bear scenario is courtesy of Shagster (the guy formally known as Shag Dowg)… you'll see what we're talking about in a bit…

Eye On the Prize

_Act IV: Add in some cool title to reel the readers in later _

See the Witch-King. He stands freakishly tall within a pool of black swirling mist that acts as a hem to the light-sucking darkness of his robes. If he were to remove the menacing cowl, all that would be visible to the normal observer – probably just before he or she went mad with fear – would be a magnificent crown and two glowing eyes. Not exactly something to write home about; when a girl wishes upon a shooting star for a man that's tall, dark, and handsome the Witch-King is probably the _last_ person she wants climbing up her balcony spouting poetry and prose.

At the moment he is having a dilemma.

Part of the grander scheme of things was to ensure that the stand-in "Eye of Mordor" be seen by enough lackeys and individuals in high up places so as not to arouse any suspicion as to Sauron's leaving. It worked well enough, every citizen within Mordor (save the Witch-King… and maybe the Ring-bearer – though he wasn't too sure what that one was thinking) was convinced that nothing was amiss. Isengard was the problem. That craggy upstart wizard who insisted he wore many colours when everyone knew he wore white kept on ringing up the Palantir. It was unwise to ignore Saruman for long, but there was nothing for it. To top it all off the Ring-bearer was brooding now… and if he tried anything… well. The Witch-King wasn't sure if this Baggins had taken on any of Sauron's powers in the switch, he wasn't even sure if it _had_ worked. 

Maybe it hadn't. 

Maybe it wasn't the Ring-bearer in Sauron's form pouting in the observatory; maybe his master had just gone loopy. He wasn't sure anymore… and that wasn't a good thing for the remaining _sane_ overseer of Mordor's operations.

***

_Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud._ His head bounced against his shoulder in a thick, listless rhythm. He was aware of other sounds too, the ominous _rumble_ of thunder, the dull _whump_of clumsy feet marching on hard ground, the occasional _crackle_ of dry leaves or the_ snap _of a twig. It all felt so distant though, as if the noise was wrapped in a pita and being devoured by a sweaty businessman. Sauron lolled his head to the other side to save it from the constant contact with his arm and cringed as the bright sunlight penetrated his still closed eyelids. That did it. Someone would definitely pay for this. And if they had a problem with that, well, too bad for them.

Life was seldom fair.

He kicked out savagely with one hobbit foot (the equivalent of a brick wrapped in fluff) and grinned at the surprised grunt that followed the contact to what felt like a jaw. He squirmed out of the grip of the large orc that had been holding him and fell neatly into a tangled heap… if that's even possible.

'Mahahaha… oh damn.' He had never seen so many angry orcs… well actually the preceding statement is false for yes he had, he tended to employ the angry ones over the happy ones back in Mordor… but he'd never before seen that seething, unflinching hatred directed at himself! Man could orcs be scary…

He scrambled on all fours to get away from the nearest black gauntleted hand but was picked up by another. Sauron bit, kicked, and flailed his arms around and around trying to punch something but the Uruk-Hai made sure it was holding him up by the leg at arms-length to insure minimum damage. They had been expecting to deal with something about as threatening as a rabbit. Apparently rabbits took steroids and started tavern brawls these days.

'You acorn munching pork fiends! I'll grind yer bones to make me grub! I'll shove your grandmas down the stairs! I'll visit you at night and pick out every one of your nose hairs with tweezers! I'll…'

_Smack._

He hadn't seen the backhanded blow coming but it would surely leave a bruise along the entire left side of his face. Involuntary tears of pain sprung up but the dark lord shooed them away. The surrounding orcs chuckled among themselves and were ready to resume their march back to Orthanc without anymore distraction. But this was the first time Sauron had ever been slapped… which meant that someone would now die.

He bared severely clenched teeth, flipped upright, grabbed the offending orc by the collar and hauled himself up to eye level. His pupils were so tiny they looked like pinpricks in a blue sea of madness.

'Do you have any idea who pays your wages and dental plans, you stupid stupid…!' In truth Sauron didn't pay for any of it as these were _Saruman's_ orcs not his, but this hardly seemed to matter because of the arrow that suddenly decided to whiz past Sauron's ear and implant itself into the accosted orc. What had been taken as distant thunder before now manifested itself into the galloping of hundreds of hooves as the Riders of Rohan breasted the hill, bearing down on the orc patrol, arrows pulled back and ready to fly from vibrating bowstrings. 

***

Legolas checked something off on his notepad. 'Alrighty… and that makes 356. How's your count coming buddy?'

Aragorn slew the last orc in the forest. 'I'd say 279, but since I got the very last orc it's gotta be a bonus.'

Aragorn ran a handy rag over the surface of Andúril until the blade gleamed pure again while Legolas yanked his arrows out of fallen orcs, _"Thank you, thank you very much… eww…"_

Suddenly a mountain bear scampered up to the two causing them to slow their actions and regard it cautiously.

The bear said, 'Hey guys, how's it hanging?'

Legolas was appalled by the up-front question. 'Why the hell should I give personal information to some punk ass bear!?'

'Oh, hold on a sec.' The bear then opened his word-hole and Boromir climbed out. 'Ah, father was right,' he breathed, 'Being outside of a bear's stomach is truly greater than being within one.'

The bear blinked at the man-become-lunch-become-escape artist, shrugged its big fuzzy shoulders, yawned, and then proceeded to lick itself as such hairy animals are prompt to do… excluding Gimli. 

Boromir took in the shocked faces of his friends as concern for the whereabouts of Frodo, while in truth it was out of sheer amazement that anything would actually put something like Boromir in its mouth. He lowered his head and shamefully told them how the lure of the Ring was too much for him and that when he'd tried to take it by force Frodo had fled. Incidentally he left out the part about being stuck in the bear-trap. 

'…I am a wretch,' he said dramatically, 'I wouldn't blame you if you refused to take up arms with me again.'

Aragorn stepped forward and clapped a hand on Boromir's shoulder in a brotherly manner. 'Fret not, you cannot blame the human within you. The Ring is an accursed thing… and together we will defeat it.' The two men plus one elf grinned. 

'And besides,' continued Aragorn wrapping a checkered napkin around his neck and brandishing a fork and a knife, '… you brought me my favourite dish… live mountain bear.'

***

Lost amid the battle cries and screams of frothing chargers a small figure lay curled in a ball trying to make itself smaller still. It wasn't until arrows split the air landing only feet away that the creature figured it better bloody well run for it. Having spent most of the trip unconscious Sauron hadn't been able to take in much of the surrounding area at all. Now peering over the prone body of a heavily armored orc (obviously the heavy armor hadn't done much) he could make out the vague outline of a dark forest some distance away. He was getting tired of forests, but at the moment this one offered a chance for shelter and that was a chance he couldn't afford to pass up. 

_Okay… now_.

Sauron dove forward and sprinted hard. He scooped up a fallen shield without breaking stride and kept on going as fast as his mad fuzzy feet could go. Out of nowhere a grey stallion came barring down on him, but reared (orcs is was used to, hobbits no) and Sauron had to roll to avoid the burnished hooves that would have otherwise come crushing down on his skull. He cursed at the pain of landing on the edge of the shield but forced himself upright. 

He looked over to his left. There stood yet another of Isengard's wonderful Uruk-Hai. Instead of being preoccupied with battle though this one was looking straight at him.

'Oh muffin…'

He only had seconds to drop and bring the shield around as the super-orc loosed one of its black arrows at him. The impact of the bolt threw him onto his back. Despite himself, Sauron yelped as an iron-clad boot came down heavy on his ankle to keep him in place. The lone Uruk-Hai sneered, savage razor teeth complimenting its intimidating expression. It slowly and deliberately drew back the bowstring in a straight vertical motion and Sauron realized he was looking directly up into the face of death itself. 

He grinned at it. 'Bring it on.'

The grey charger he had startled before tore out of a massive struggle just behind the Uruk-Hai, nostrils flaring and raw muscle connected to diamond hard hooves pounding the earth. Its rider, blond hair and beard streaked with grime brought his sword in a heavy arc directed at the Uruk-Hai's neck just as the horse leapt. It passed over Sauron, a creature of aerial grace, and continued its charge as the giant orc fell, its arrow having only missed by the merest of fractions.

There was an intake of breath, and then Sauron ruined the drama as only Sauron knows how, 'Well… Daymn!' 

***

'So if your cousin's lost it and is gallivanting around the wood with this world's fate on a string… that must mean the others are desperately searching for him, which means we can cut their work in two by joining the cause.' Reasoned out Gimli.

The one Dwarf and three Hobbits sat cross-legged in the shade of a large leafy oak as the sun beat her unmerciful rays upon the shriveled underbrush. Their nearness to Mordor's borders showed in the tired and craggy look of the plant life all around. It also showed in the apparent lack of any living creature for miles save for themselves. Things were dreadfully quiet.

Sam tried to lighten the mood, 'Yeah! Divide and concur, as me gaffer always used to say. Look out world! Here comes the _Small and the Tall Troops_!'

'The _Small and the Tall Troops_, really?' Pippin scrunched up his face, 'I was gonna suggest the shrimps and the p…'

'Small and tall.' Merry cut in again giving his younger cousin a withering look.

***

Mid-afternoon found three tall figures trekking across forested country at a relentless pace. Fallen orcs and various instruments of war lay scattered in their path but they evaded them easily.

Legolas and Aragorn made virtually no noise, but that was okay because Boromir was making enough noise for the both of them.

'Be QUIET you big, fat, loud thing!' Legolas shrieked.

'Don't be ruuuuude,' chided Boromir, 'Rude guys NEVER get the girls.'

'Can I kill him? I swear, it's as if the whole balance of order in the universe was thrown off cuz he's still alive.'

Aragorn hissed at them to be still and then crept into a clearing, casting furtive and penetrating glances all about, especially into the shadowy and misty patches of land. The fog had settled quickly as if the forest had made to blanket the carnage that had taken place within its depths. Aragorn moved ever so slowly, silent feet kicking soft tendrils of mist and dirt in a way that suggested years of intense training in stealth, or high-budget special effects equipment. Finally he found what he'd been searching for.

In a swift movement he gestured the others to his side. While Legolas's arrival was announced only by the elf's quiet breathing at his shoulder, Boromir came with a _snap, crack, thud "Oh crud!" Wump, flump, and finally…_

'What do you see Ranger?'

'Orc tracks.' He pointed. 'Heading back into the river.'  At his words the three looked up across the Anduin to the western shore.  There shattered on the beach were the remains of a dozen crudely designed wooden rafts.  _That explains how they got to this side,_ Aragorn scowled.

'And you think they have Frodo with them?' Legolas grimaced at his own question. 'Of course they do, why else would they all up and leave at the same time.'

'Wouldn't it be prudent to also retrace their tracks?' suggested Boromir looking back in the direction from whence the tracks came. 'It's a horrible thought but what if they killed the little one and left him dead…'

Aragorn shook his head no. 'Alive or…' he paused, '… dead, they wouldn't leave the body. But Frodo's alive I know it… and we're going to find him.'

Boromir grinned, 'Then what are we sitting about for?'

'At the moment…' Aragorn began, and then pointed a little ways up stream where one of the Lorien boats was half submerged in the water.

'How'd _that happen?' the Gondorian asked genuinely surprised._

'Well, when _you and__ Frodo took off with one boat each,' the tone was cold and Boromir tried to sink into himself as Aragorn continued, 'That left the six of us to try and follow in the last boat, the result being rather obvious.'_

The half sunken boat decided at that moment to give a loud _BLOOOORP! then drop completely into the river._

The silence was painful.

'We haven't time for this…' Aragorn muttered angrily.

'Look, I hid my boat out of habit when I beached here, so I'm sure the Uruk's weren't able to find and destroy it, I can show you…' Boromir began by way of apology, and in seconds the three were sprinting down the beach to where the boat was indeed well hidden under a densely-thorned bush.  They pulled the white craft out and began pushing it toward the water when Legolas asked, 'What of Gimli and the Hobbits?'

Aragorn hesitated, but knew what must be done.  'They'll be alright, Gimli will look after them… we _have _to get to Frodo.'

Legolas nodded and it wasn't long until they reached the western shore, leaving the boat in plain view so that if Gimli and the Hobbits should see it, they'd know where the Men and Elf had gone.

Aragorn turned to look at his two companions, 'For certain this will not be simple, and they've already much lead on us.  But we will make such a chase as shall be accounted a marvel among all the free folk of this world!'

'Then it is time,' grinned Legolas

Boromir finished for him, 'Lets hunt some orc!'

The three strapping and handsome males stood then. They felt great. They had said all the right dramatic things. They were fired up. They were determined. They were in the prime of their life… well except for Aragorn who was 80 something… and Legolas who was a couple centuries old - but still a youngun in relation to his kind - and Boromir was probably "over the hill" too… but dammit! They were ready to kick some righteous ass!!

To be continued… I mean it this time…

KT SHY: Well, I've officially revamped this chapter.  If you're new you won't notice it but for those of you who are EOP veterans, you'll see how I've added the whole boat scenario.  See, I don't know how I got away without explaining it last time; it was as if the characters were magically transporting themselves from shore to shore!  As always, feel free to leave a review, I'll be glad to hear from you!

Tootles! ^_^


	5. The Split Road

KT SHY: Special, special thanks to all my dear reviewers. To Tanny (yay! We got the same crazy sense o humor!) Zidanelover167 (you punk… write more fanfic now!) Sammykins (*gives u a tissue and a huggle ^________^*), Songbirdy (I _won't_ ask, lol), Htebazy (thanku thanku!), Kyrthira Phelan for pointing out the error in age on Aragorn which I then corrected. Thanks! Man he's doing quite well for being almost 90. Also to the mystery reviewer - who left without a name but with a kind message! Aaaaaand thanks to the ever-wonderful Starbrat! Booo! (lol) Go read her fanfic. Nooooooow.

Credit for the scene with the Nazgûl at the inn goes entirely to the 'Qing of Quirk': Shagster, formally known as Shag Dowg). 

Eye on the Prize

_Act V: The __Split Road___

'Themastershouldbebackbynowwhythehellisn'thebackbynow!?' The Witch-King whimpered and gibbered this as he made another pass around the seating area, occupied by the other Nazgûl. A few of the black clad figures looked up mildly from their game of _@$$hole._

'I mean Saruman keeps demanding an audience with him and the only reason Gondor hasn't attacked yet is because they're baffled at the encampment of piranha-poodles outside their walls. What do I do what do I do??? That little munchkin monster upstairs refuses to leave his chamber! And… AHH! I'm loosing hair! I don't even have a head and I'm loosing hair!!!!!'

One of the two Ring Wraiths still playing tossed down the two of spades. 'HA! I win! Yooou're the @$$$$$hole!'

'Sssscrew yoou guuuysss! I didn't wanna plaaay thisss sssstupid game in the fiiirsssst plaaace!'

'THAT'S IT!!!'

They all looked up at their leader. The Witch-King pulled himself out of the trench he had worn in the carpet. 'YOU have to go find the Master! You can follow the Ring to our Lord and bring him safely back!'

'But we did thaaat the laaaaassst time, and look where it got ussss.'

The two blazing balls of fire that were the Witch-King's eyes flared. 'Go. Out. And. Find. Him. Now.'

The passing of only a few minutes found The Eight riding off hard followed closely behind by their symphony-orchestrated choir. The Witch-King sped to the door in an apron and held aloft several paper bags, 'WAIT! You forgot your lunches!!!'

***

The way of large things at a distance is this. You THINK they're closer than they actually are because there's nothing else to judge it against size-wise and so you end up spending the whole day just trying to get there. (Anyone who's gone to visit the giant cross in Texas will know what I'm talking about). When you're 3-foot-something however and running for dear life in the middle of a chaotic battle, the interest-factor of this phenomenon is lost.

'Oh Melkor in hell what did I do to deserve this!? Well besides all those times I - AAAAAUGH!'

Sauron skidded as yet another Uruk-Hai broke concentration from the battle and lunged at him. The sheer number of Uruks trying to get the "_secret shiny thingy_" all for themselves was truly amazing.

Sauron side-stepped the attack and kept on going at full tilt toward the looming but annoyingly aloof forest of Fangorn. It took three more near-death experiences and a brush with a rather viscous hamster (which will not be discussed at the moment) until he finally found shelter under the dark canopy of rustling greenery. 

Tripping over roots and disturbing the homes of small mammals he stomped through Fangorn to get away from the mass of idiots squabbling behind him. 

'Ah man, I need to put together a plan for doubling back and getting my Ring.'

Muttering to himself Sauron plodded on through the leafy paths that seemed to open before him and close behind just as quickly. 

_Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp, *SPLAT*_

'Criiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipes I stepped in craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!'

'How uncommonly stupid of you.' A low voice rumbled from somewhere above.

***

They stood upon a rocky plateau on the edge of the unholy land. Dusty barren terrain stretching before them, broken by jagged mountain ranges and ominous black crevices. On the point of horizon where red smoky sky met red cracky earth was a dark mound that could only be Mount Doom. Frodo, they reasoned, must be heading there. They'd have to take the chance and try to catch up. The _Small Troop _gave a collective groan at the sight of the inevitable massive hernia awaiting them on the looooooooong trek through Mordor.

***

At the local culinary establishment…

'Baaaaaaack Baaaaaaacon.'

The tavern owner, a portly fellow (never trust a skinny innkeeper) trembled under the gaze of the eight towering black hooded figures. 'Th-th- there's no back-bacon here!'

'An omelet perhaaaapppsssss?'

'W-w-w-would you like some ch-ch-ch-cheese with yer omelet tall dark sirs?'

'I would adviiise agaiinst it,' one of the figures rasped, 'You wouuldn't want to see thiss guy eat it… goesss off like a bagpipe.'

'Ssso I'm a little lactose intolerant, deal with it!'

'Cooome oon, let's hear "Flight of the Bumblebee" agaaain.'

'I ssaid shut up!'

To be continued… 

KT SHY: Short? Yes. Finished? Hell no! I'm just making sure I pop out enough of the plot so as not to scare ya guys into thinking I've gone AWOL. I'm trying to make it tighter, believe me; I'm just at a transition point so it's kinda slow. 

My thanks to all you intelligent and incredibly attractive people for reviewing (oh and reading… reading's important too) my silly lil' fic. It warms my heart. And special thanks to the lords and ladies at Fanfiction.net who made my name show up under author-search again! Yay! ^____________^


	6. The Small Troop

KT SHY: Ahhhh, The Two Towers. It's quite an accomplishment for a film to satisfy 365 days of anticipation. Good job cast and crew. I enjoyed the film muchly…too bad it felt the need to destroy my bladder and make me wait another entire painful year for the next one to come out. Grrr. Thanks again to Starbrat for reviewing and Sam for winning the Summary contest…

Shagster: Being the only entry that's quite an accomplishment. 

KT SHY: … and SpamWarrior for the kind, kind compliments! Later you sassy things!

Shagster: Be fruitful and multiply! Mmmm… fruit salad.

More KT SHY: While surfing FF.net for fanfics based on some of my favourite shows I noticed something curious. The fics with the most reviews contained slashes in them. _What is up with this? _I asked myself. But being a very open person when it comes to good marketability and publicity I decided to incorporate this into my own story. Enjoy.

L/e/g/o/l/a/s/////w/e/n/t///f/o/r////a///w/a/l/k////t/o////b/u/y///P/O/P/C/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/r/n//////!!!!

Okay, that ought to be enough slashes to sustain you. NOW BACK TO THE STORY!

Eye on the Prize

_Act VI: The Small Troop_

_Let us jump forward a bit…_

Sam plummeted to a grisly death. But as this was the Ralph Bakshi version of Sam – who gave a resounding and very hearty _"Whoooopaaayy!"_ all the way down - and not the Sam we all know and love, we can get back to the story. 

Exhausted, disillusioned, and broken hearted Samwise Gamgee plodded on at the rear of the group. They had all stopped talking to one another days ago. There wasn't much to say and there wasn't even any point in encouraging one another anymore because they had all pretty much lost hope. 

They were lost. 

The silent and relentless march left Sam with nothing but the thoughts and worries and sorrows of his mind. He couldn't help but feel that he'd failed his part in the quest, and that he'd failed Gandalf's expectations in him. _"Don't you loose him Samwise Gamgee" _the kind yet strangely terrifying wizard's words buzzed around and around his head. 

'But I have,' he whispered sadly to himself, 'I have.'

'Hold up hobbits!' called Gimli from the front of the line cutting into Sam's depression, 'Time for a rest.'

They all gave a sigh of relief to get off their hugely swollen feet and sit down for a change. Pippin put his face in his hands and Merry, though so very tired himself, set about trying to comfort his younger cousin. Gimli walked about doing Gimli things while Sam began to pull out his pots and pans. He then decided it time to break their "vocal-fasting". 

'We've been traveling for so very many, many, many chapters – I MEAN MILES!'

'If you have to shout please don't feel it has to be in my ear, Sam.' Merry rubbed at said offended ear.

'I'm one big pain.' Pippin muttered, then looked up sharply. 'And don't say anything Merry I saw that grin.' 

Merry chuckled 'Then I don't need to say anything.' 

'Oh what I wouldn't give for a decent meal.' Sam lamented. What with four starve crazed members in their little expedition it was a wonder the food packs had even lasted the first couple weeks like they had. After that they had to resorts to rocks.

'Alright then,' said Sam, 'I think tonight's menu calls for some rock-casserole, couple o' rock-dumplings and… maybe some nice crispy rocks.'

'Ah!' smiled Pippin who's spirits returned instantly, 'Sounds good Sam. But could you maybe take it easy on the portions of rock you put in everything? They literally go straight to m' hips.'

Gimli returned from his Gimli-doings looking as disgruntled as ever. "Rocks again? GAAHRGH. What I wouldn't give for another taste of flesh!'

Sam looked up from his pans through narrow eyes, 'If you remember, mister Gimli, that's what got us driven out of the marshes with all those dead people in it a couple weeks back.'

'All I wanted was a nibble,' Gimli defended, 'How was I supposed to know they'd rise from the grave and chase us!?'

'Got us out of there fast enough, make no mistake.' reminisced Merry, 'Got us hopelessly lost though. How many days has it been since we've seen anything green?'

'Too long.' Sam who loved such things gave a sad little smile then stood up to go gather some rocks for their meal.

Sam crawled about a little way off from the rest of the Small Troop looking for choice morsels but his mind wasn't entirely on the task. _Poor mister Frodo_, he thought to himself, is he really _out here somewhere all by himself? I hope not, maybe Strider and the others found him, and that would be good. But then… what're we doing in this horrible nightmarish country? What've we been suffering for? No… he's out here, somehow I just know it, maybe already at the Black Gates and… ooh what is that frightful stench!?_

Sam stood up and pressed the elvish cloak to his nose. The source of the putrid scent came from up ahead… from a cave. _Torech__ Ungol_, a place full of nightmares; but of course Sam didn't know this, standing at the entrance of the tunnel, eyes squinting into the darkness. He turned quickly and ran to rejoin his friends, telling them of the cave. Soon four small figures stood huddled at the entrance peering into the shadowy depths… well, three of the figures huddled, the fourth stood at the front tapping his monster axe against one hand and wearing a thoughtful expression. 

'I reckon we take a peek.'

Merry gaped at Gimli, 'Are you mad!? Even if you ignore that wretched smell, the darkness would surely kill you. It's black as pitch it is! There could be holes and cracks that fall to sharp rocks, or even to nothing at all!'

'Besides,' added Pippin from behind Merry's shoulder, 'Who knows what could be livin' in there.'

The other three paused at this. Thus far the only living things they had encountered in their search was each other. Other living things suggested…

'Red meat.' said Gimli.

'Oh that's just sick!' cried Pippin.

'Food.' said Merry.

'No Merry, not in there!' 

'Alright then Pippin,' Sam sighed, 'guess I'd better go gather up some more rocks for dinner.' But before he had even turned around he felt a hand grip his cloak. He glanced back to see Pippin, jaw set, and wooly scarf flapping resolutely in the odious breeze coming from the cave. 

'We're goin' in.'

Had they not already passed through the bowels of Moria, such a darkness that now engulfed the travelers would have been considered impossible. But even Moria paled in comparison to the black, fetid world they had entered. Occasionally an angry mutter or a squirming, disheveled noise would come from one of the hobbits as ghostly tendrils touched at their hands and faces.

'Some beastly _trappings_ I should think,' Sam growled as he tried to untangle some of the stuff from his hair. An amusing pun in its irony yet Sam wasn't even aware he'd made one. What he thought of as _trappings_ - decaying ornamental wall hangings in what may have once been an orc home - were in fact devices that were used for _trapping_. And the hunter that dwelt deep in _Torech__ Ungol _was aware of exactly where her prey was by the movements from their touches that vibrated along the soft tendrils and back to her nest. It was time. Oh yes it was time. It was time for her to feast.

To be continued…

KT SHY: I'm back! For good or ill. I've also gone and revamped the chapters, fixed errors, and gotten rid of my "excuses" and things that waste space. Yay! I do hope people are still reading this as I've become re-inspired and have so much in store for you! Oh, and the problem with my name not showing up in Author search has happened again. I can take a hint. If I don't update I loose my author-ness. Well, I just guess I'll have to update more often then! OH! And I'm very sorry to fans of the Ralph Bakshi Sam. I apologize for offending you… but its just that THAT particular Sam terrifies the heck out of me. Brrr!


	7. Flight from Fangorn

KT SHY: My name is back in the penname search! Aieeeeee! *does happy little Frodo-chicken dance* (heh heh Sara) Thank you! Alrighty! This chapter also promises to be brief, but it makes for easier reading right? Right.

Disclaimer: Characters and places from The Lord Of The Rings belong to the master storyteller of all time: J.R.R Tolkien…….forgive me!

Eye on the Prize

Act VII: Flight from Fangorn

Sauron looked about for the source of the voice. He knew he had heard one, low and rumbling, coming from above him but he couldn't see anything except trees. Lots and lots of trees. Then he saw it. A face peering at him, a face set in bark and lined in moss and leaves. An Ent, and an ancient one by the look of it, rooted comfortably at the base of a sloping hill, nestled amidst bushes and large rocks. He regarded the sentient tree cautiously. 

'So… this is your wood, I take it?'

The Ent responded slowly in a deep, lulling mumble. 'Hmm, _hoom_. My wood? Rmm, I suppose you could say that, _hoom_. And being my wood and home, _toom_, it seems proper I know what you are doing in it, _luum__, duum_.'

'Hardly should by doings concern you, tree shepherd. But if you must know, I'm just a harmless little woodland critter and am really no threat to you whatsoever. Just let me take shelter here a while. I will leave your… ' he gave a small, barely visible sneer, '… _home_ unscathed.'

'Hmm, normally I might comply, _ruum_, for you look small and not at all like an orc.'

The Dark Lord felt an uneasiness grow within him, he could feel the _"but…"_ coming on. 

'But you feel worse than one, _roomy_, _toom_. And I might have needed to take some time to consider the meaning of this, _baruum_, had _he _not already warned me of your coming.'

Sauron tensed. The voice was still so low and sleep-inducing but the words were becoming dangerous. Who was this "he" the Ent spoke of? The creature's steady voice cut back into his thoughts. 

'We were warned of you, hrmmm, toruuumm. Puppet master of young traitorous Saruman. Room, toom! Saruman who murdered our kin west of Isengard; and still burns at our borders. Hoom hoom! Yes, we were warned of you, the destroyer of _the gardens_. Hoom roomy hoom toom! You who drove away the _Entwives_! HOOM!'

The great Ent rose slow and deliberate, feet likening to roots grasping the rocks below and arms outstretching toward the Dark Lord.

'Rarely is it our manner, but I'm afraid it's time to get hasty!'

Sauron looked up and to his horror saw a mass of Ents, two-dozen score, followed by row upon row of trees marching down the slope above him. Their intent shone clear in the dark pools of their eyes. _Trod upon the enemy of all free people… haroom, broom, roomy, toom, toom, boom!_

'Well, ' said Sauron backing up slowly and saluting to the ancient and enraged Ent. 'I appear to have overstayed my welcome… I'll just show myself the way out then, shall I?'

He spun and fled from the hill and the booming voice of the old Ent could be heard behind giving order that the chase begin, 'Hoom, toom, roomy, hrum, foombily, doom, loomdy, loom, (cough, cough, cough) GET 'IM!'

***

At the edge of Fangorn's mighty borders rose a column of black smoke. So high it rose that many a watchful eye would be able to see its dark trail smearing the sky, though none would know of what it signified save for those that were there. The fire at its base begun to die out in part as dawn spread over the remains of the battlefield. Charred bodies of slain Uruk-Hai tangled together in a large pile could be seen between the licking tongues of flame. A lone Rider of Rohan stood surveying the handiwork. The rising sun shone off his spear and helm - ordained with a long white horse tail that flowed softly in the cleansing breeze that carried across the plains. The rest of the _Rohirrim_were a fair distance away from the fire, having let their horses stray a little to graze and rest from the night's battle.

The Rider's own horse strayed only a little way from his master. Whickering softly every now and then, all the while staring intently into the darkness of the old forest. He let out a surprised snort as Sauron came bursting out of the underbrush, arms and legs flailing, pounding across the grass in a mad frenzy. So focused was Sauron on his flight that he didn't even notice the Rider until he was caught up in one intercepting arm.

'Lemmegolemmegomlemmegolemmego!'

'What business does a _child_ have so near this treacherous place!?' Having never in his life seen a halfling (except perhaps in stories read to him as a lad), the man mistook the hobbit for a human youth. 

Being the eternal grinch that he was, Sauron thought up a lie and he thought it up quick. 'Please sir! Those horrible monsters stole me from my home and wanted to use me as a snack! Then these horse people attacked them and… and… I escaped into the forest… and now the trees are trying to eat me too!'

'Good gracious!' While not an entirely trusting man, the Rider was _not yet_ so suspicious as to think Sauron was anything other than what he appeared. His heart went out to the edible child. 'Don't worry lad, you are safe amongst the Riders of Rohan. I myself am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark, and I swear that no more harm shall befall you whilst under my protection.' 

He whistled to his horse, which came forth in an unsettled and slightly frightened manner, but Éomer didn't notice. He swung the Dark Lord up into the saddle - '_What the… gah! What's wrong with this kid's feet?' _- and was just about to saddle-up behind him when the horse bolted. The animal's horsey-mind had been able to recognize Sauron as a being of pure, unrelenting evil, and the instinct to run took over all reason. Sauron clung tightly to the bridle using the horse's own terror to his advantage, steering in the direction he needed to go… back to the Ring.

Éomer lay prone upon the ground, slightly dazed at the fall he took when his mount had charged off so suddenly. He lifted his head awkwardly to see the horse riding hard across the plain, the "child" still on his back. The child turned his head though, before he had vanished entirely from view (for Rohan's horses are swifter than can be imagined), gave Éomer a very rude gesture with his hand and shouted, 'THANKS FOR THE HELP SUCKA'!' And the mocking '_bwa__ ha ha ha_' that followed echoed all throughout Rohan. 

***

It was with great caution that Sauron chose his path to return to the place where he had first been captured by the Uruk-Hai. He had no doubt that the remaining members of that ridiculous motley-crew of a fellowship would be hard on the orcish trail, intent on rescuing their precious _Ring-bearer_. He gave a little chuckle at this, for he knew that the Ring-bearer was safely tucked away in Barad-dûr. And the sooner that Sauron got the Ring, the sooner he could get back there, take back his body, take over Middle-Earth, and delve out some serious mayhem. Sauron liked mayhem. It gave him a warm tingly feeling.

So anyway, Sauron chose his path with great caution, steering clear of the obvious trail and ensuring himself far enough away so as not to be detected by the eyes of the Elf. One would think that this should take longer, but he was on horseback after all and the horse was still in a state of blind panic. He was able to reach the wood edge by nightfall. 

The call of the Ring grew clearer in his mind. It was giving off a harsh, clanging, desperate cry and Sauron was slightly agitated about this because the mental sound could easily be detected by anyone who happened to stray by. He could loose the blasted thing again if it attracted any orcs that might have survived the battle with the Ranger and the Elf. So preoccupied was he with this thought that he didn't notice the change that was overcoming the horse. 

Blind fear was beginning to be conquered by a seething anger that he, a proud stallion of the Riddermark, should be ridden by a being so cruel, so vile! He reared, and Sauron gave a yelp of surprise, then the horse begun to buck wildly, intent on throwing the evil one from his back. Sauron fell forward over the neck of the great beast and landed hard on the grass. The horse rose up on his muscular legs, gave a triumphant 'NEEEIIIIIGHHH!' that resounded all around the area, then darted back in the direction from which he had come, intent on returning to his master. Vengeance had been carried out. Vengeance for his own misuse and for his poor black kin that Mordor had stolen from Rohan and given to the Nazgûl.

'FINE!' Sauron shouted after him, 'Who'd want to ride you anyway!? Not me! When I get back to my rightful self I'll track you down and make you pay! Mark my words horse! MARK THEM WELL!'

He turned away, teeth bared and backside aching from the fall. _'Stoopid, riggin, friggen, four legged sunnuva…'_

He dusted himself off irately, then ambled down toward the sound of running water.  Sauron stood upon the western edge of the river, Anduin.  He'd been unconscious at the time of his _involuntary_ crossing at the hands of the Uruk, but assuming they'd used some sort of floating craft to ferry him across he set off in search of it.  It took him only five minutes to find the remains of the Uruk rafts, dashed into pieces simply because they enjoyed breaking things.

_Well, it can't be helped,_ he thought, _it's what they do._

It was then that Sauron saw the white boat from Lothlórien that Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas had left in plain site as a message to the _Small Troop _should they have seen it.  It was a little further down the way and upon reaching it Sauron was delighted to see that the oars were still intact.   Using all his physical strength he pushed the boat into the river, climbed clumsily aboard, and paddled awkwardly to the eastern shore.  He leapt out and immediately began sprinting through the wood, searching for a familiar presence.  It wasn't long before…

_Master!_

He heard it then, the Ring. He fell upon all fours and crawled about quickly looking for the slightest hint of gold to catch his eye. The area was trampled and muddy with orc prints but he dug about and shifted his hands here and there.

Then he saw it.

Gleaming beautifully in the starlight.

'Thank Melkor!' he breathed with sigh of relief. Giddily he scrambled over towards the small trinket that was such a large part of himself. He extended a hand and placed it upon the cool smooth surface… as at the same time a cold, clammy, greenish-grey skinned hand fell on top of his. He looked up into a bulbous pair of luminescent, startled eyes.

'IT'SS OURSS, IT'SSS OUURSSS!'

'OH MY GAWD put some clothes on!'

To be continued… 

KT SHY: Guess who? ^_____________^ Alrighty! Another chapter out and done for the most part. Once again EOP veterans will notice the slight changes that came as result of me forgetting Sauron had lost the Ring on the east rather than west side of the river.  SO! I've pretty much got things sorted out to this point.  Huzzah!  And dearest reader, if you'd drop me a line I'd be much appreciated!


	8. The Tall Troop

KT SHY: AUGH! I didn't even think about it review-blocking when I replaced the old chapters with new ones! Lets all give _Starbrat_ a hearty round of applause for reviewing anyway! (KT & Shagster: _clap, clap, clap_) Glad to see you again! ^____^ I can't get through a chapter without seeing your happy signature on a review! I'd also like to extend a large thank you to new readers _Yugure__,_ _Makura__ Koneko, spoke, Eve of Mirkwood, Fernie _and_ gandolegonliodorypinieita_…. Yeeee! Glad you enjoyed it! And _Miyako__ Inoue, Queen of Cheese_ you are incredible! *runs around screaming* You read it all in one day! And you… (sniffle)… added me to your favourites list… (sob) I'm getting choked up over here! _SpamWarrior_, I thank you so much for the kind review. I promise to do my best to deliver nothing but top quality fanfic-yness in my fanfics! Oh and _Sammy_… you are as insane as always, I lurv youuuu!

Eye on the Prize

_Act VIII: The Tall Troop_

They had been running for three days. Three days. Aragorn at the head of the troop, keen Ranger senses picking up the ridiculously obvious trail of orc prints. Legolas following close behind, moving swiftly and easily. Boromir ran at the back of the troop, blowing the _Hero-Theme_ on the Horn of Gondor (also known in this realm as _Track #5 from TTT_).

'_Bvvrrrr__ bvr bvr bvrrr bvr bvr bvvvrrrrrr…_' 

'Boromir!'

'_Vrtt__?_' Boromir put down the horn and looked at the Ranger. 'Whaaaaaaaat?'

Aragorn had halted, his right hand raised in a gesture of silence. He looked at the Elf who understood his meaning. Legolas pricked up his finely pointed ears and listened…

'Horses!'

The three quickly dove for cover, using the landscape as camouflage and then covered themselves with their _Lórien_cloaks. A mass of riders - one hundred and four by Legolas' count - sped by in a cloud of dust, the sun glinting off the tips of menacing spears. 

'It is the Riders of Rohan,' Aragorn whispered to his companions, 'We're in luck!' He threw aside his cloak and ran into the open, waving enthusiastically. 'HI!' The Riders checked their speed instantly. _Clop, clop, clop gallop, gallopgallopgallopGALLOP! _In an instant the three were surrounded. Aragorn put up his hands defensively, 'I didn't say I _was_!' 

The Riders sat stonily upon powerful steeds, spears aimed at the trio's midsections, but their eyes were focused a little bit away, to the path they had just ridden. A tall man came running into view, the white horse tail on his helm hanging half in his face. He puffed up to the scene, bent over with his hands on his knees while taking deep breaths, then stood up completely composed and stared at the three companions.

'What business does a Man, an Elf and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark,' he paused a moment confused - _'Why'd I say that?'_ - then shrugged it off. 'What business does two Men and an Elf have in these lands.' It wasn't really a question. The words seemed to accuse them of dark deeds. They stood there at a loss for what to say when Boromir, moving ever so slightly to catch the eye of the tall man, waved sheepishly at him.

'Ah! Boromir of Gondor! Well met again!' The man grinned at the Gondorian, then gestured for the Riders to put away their spears. Legolas scratched nervously at his arm as the sharp tips drew back. The tall man ran over to clasp Boromir's arm in a friendly fashion. 'When the horse we lent you on your journey to Rivendell returned riderless, well, we began to wonder…'

'No need for worries, Éomer of Rohan…'

Aragorn walked up to the two. 'Forgive my briskness Horse-lord, but we are pressed for time. We've been following a trail of orcs bearing the White Hand for the better part of nearly four days. They have one of our friends with them, a hobbit-'

'Don't you mean two?'

'No, just one hobbit.'

Éomer scratched his head. He was feeling some kind of 6th-sense, backwards-déjà vu coming on. Aragorn took his puzzled look to be in regards to wondering what a hobbit was.

'He'd be small, only a child to your eyes.'

Éomer's face suddenly went grim as recent events came to his mind. 'A child eh?…..………….yours?' 

Aragorn stared at him for a moment, then rationalized that there was no point in making things any more complicated then they were. 'Yeah.'

'Then you owe me a new horse.'

_Okay, _Aragorn thought, _bad start._

'The orcs we slew a plenty,' Éomer pointed in the direction from whence they had ridden. 'The child stole my horse and rode back that way.' he pointed in the direction from where Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir had come. The three crouched into an instant huddle.

'So he got away! Great!' whispered an excited Boromir. But the look on Aragorn's face was troubling. 'What?'

'It gladdens my heart that Frodo's away from danger, but still our primary concern is to the Ring.'

Boromir stared at the Ranger in dismay. 'You don't honestly think he would have left it behind do you!?'

'I can't be certain... but Frodo has been acting… odd since our stay in the tavern at the beginning of our Fellowship journey. We can't risk it.'

The three stood up to face Éomer.

'Did the _child _have anything of value on him?' asked Aragorn, 'Any trinkets? Gold jewelry?'

Boromir cut in, 'Were you ever come over by an unexplainable urge to mug him of any possessions?'

Éomer blinked. 'Eh?'

The three formed a huddle again. Boromir's face was set. 'He shows no sign of Ring-seduction.'

Aragorn lifted an eyebrow. 'It's uncanny how you can tell so quickly... anyway, we must go to the scene of the battle to make certain no orcs ran off into the forest with the prize, or that it isn't simply sitting there amidst the ruin.'

'Right,' affirmed Legolas.

'If we find no trace of it, then we'll ride off to find Frodo and the others and re-forge the Fellowship. I'm just being cautious.'

They stood up again. Aragorn turned to Éomer. 'We must be off.' 

'Hold a moment!' came the Rider's response. 'Boromir I know, but who are _you_, I wonder? I have every right to be suspicious in my people's own lands.'

Aragorn had been waiting for this. 'This is Legolas of the Woodland realm… and I-' he pulled out Andúril, _the broken-sword-forged-again_, blazing in the sunlight '- am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the heir of Isildur, Elendil's son of Gondor!'

The Riders of Rohan gave a collective gasp. Éomer looked over at Boromir who gave a _yes, yes he is, just humor him_ kind of nod. 

'Legends to life,' the horseman murmured. 'So be it. I am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Is there anyway I can aid you in your journey, lord, aside from accompanying you? For open war draws near to us, and I must be by the King's side.'

'I only ask whether there are mounts you can spare us, for we have traveled a long way by foot.'

Éomer nodded, then gave a low whistle. Two horses trotted forward. 'This is Hasufel and this is Arod. Their riders were slain in battle.' The three companions and the horses shook hands. 

Aragorn gave a quizzical look to Éomer who himself was mount-less, but the man simply put up a hand. 'Mine is the only horse I shall ride.' His face grew graver as he approached the Ranger. 'Prove to me, Aragorn son of Arathorn, that I am not a man twice easily fooled. Return them to us when you are done. Return them to the Golden Hall of the King. I look to meeting again with you there, under better tidings. I wish you luck.'

He strode to the front of the column of Riders. 'Do not trust to hope though… it is forsaken in these times.' And with that, Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark ran off in a clanking of armor, the rest of the Rohirrim ridding close behind.

***

There was much confusion amongst the three as to who was to ride which horse. In the end it was decided Boromir ride with Legolas - who weighed practically nothing being an Elf - upon Hasufel, the larger horse of the two. Aragorn mounted the smaller one, Arod. For a moment the horses simply stood there slightly puzzled as if they had felt the natural harmony of the universe become slightly askew, but like Éomer before them, they shrugged it off.

With a spurring cry Aragorn urged Arod forward. Legolas leaned over gently and whispered in Hasufel's ear. The horse whinnied, and moved from trot, to canter, to gallop in an instant.

'Bl.. (cough) ack, gah, I'm geffin your haiw in mah mouf!' hollered Boromir.

'DEAL WITH IT!' Legolas had far less patience with humans.

They rode hard until they came within sight of the battle. Legolas cringed at the stench coming from the charred pile of Uruk flesh. Aragorn dismounted mid stride and landed with a rise of smoke and ash. He placed his hands to the earth, sifted through it in some kind of strange Ranger custom then dusted them off. He stood up and sniffed the air; the other two ran to his side.

'How are we going to find it in all this?' Legolas was gesturing to the orc pile and the trampled grounds all around them.

Aragorn scratched at his stubble-covered chin as if in deep thought. Then he slapped his hand down on Boromir's shoulder. 'Boromir. You know the feel of the Ring, correct?'

'What, you mean how the presence of it haunts my very existence, my every waking and dreaming moment? Yeah, I'd say so.' 

Aragorn pulled out his pipe and began to prepare it. He sat down, took a few life-sucking puffs, then looked up at the man. 'Then we'll have to leave it to you. See if you can feel its drawing power. Cover every inch of this clearing and if you feel it,' he gave the man a serious you-better-not-grab-and-run look, 'call to us right away.' 

Within a few hours Aragorn felt himself roused from a light nap. He hadn't meant to dose off, but lord was he _tired_. Legolas pointed over to Boromir who was heading back in their direction. 

'Well, it's definitely not here... what now?'

'I had hoped it wouldn't have come to this. We have to look at the possibility that the Ring _may_ have been carried away from here.' The Ranger stood unsteadily, but shook it off. 'I'll have to follow the tracks.'

'But… I've been walking all over this place!' interjected Boromir.

'Well then for all our sakes we're lucky you don't have orc or hobbit feet! Don't worry, I'll be able to tell the difference.'

Aragorn bent down to the ground, and all his Ranger senses flared. He muttered quietly to himself leaving the others to shrug at each other, then follow at a safe distance. Aragorn began to retrace the steps of Sauron.

_Frodo went over here… then here, and here. He tripped over this guy, who's wallet indicates him as being a Mister Grishnákh… hmm, obviously the Rohirrim weren't so thorough in their spring cleaning. No matter. He ran this way… then into another figure who judging by the kink in his ankle-track learned the"two-step"at the age of twenty-nine… and then the survivors all started running backwards…………… I suppose it makes sense. I remember noticing that their armor didn't cover their backs, only their fronts; because orcs never turn and flee from battle. Odd… these tracks seem to be getting older and the numbers have sporadically increased as well… meh, probably just the lack of sleep affecting my brain. Man these Uruk-Hai run backwards VERY well…_

Back in the real world Legolas looked nervously at Boromir. 'Is it just me, or has he stumbled upon their _incoming path?'_

'SHHH' hissed Boromir, 'the man's a professional, we can't mess with his viiiiiiibe!' He shook his hands to emphasize the last part. Legolas backed away ever so slowly.

***

Back in Barad-dûr the Witch-king was trying so very hard to maintain his composure. The giant eye that was Frodo hovered an inch behind his armchair, lidless and staring.

'_I seeeeeee yoooooooooooooou!'___

The Witch-king could feel the armrests of his chair crack and snap as he dug into them with his gauntlet covered hands. _Guys_, he hissed in a silent prayer to the other eight Nazgûl, _you better hurry back with the Master. I can't take much more of this_.'

***

_… and they took no brakes, what manner of beasts can run so far and long? They even seem to run backwards faster the farther they go! They must have gotten the Ring, it's the only explanation for such bizarre behavior--OW! _

The last comment came as Aragorn smacked into something solid and, obviously, painful. He rubbed his head with a curse and looked up to see what he had run into. 

'Oh shoot!' 

It was Orthanc.

There was no mistaking that black exterior. 

Aragorn looked over his shoulder at the other two, who stood gaping at the sheer height of the tower. He turned his gaze upward as well, just in time to see a large balcony window thrown violently open. 

' 'THE HELL!?' Saruman - who had felt the vibration of Aragorn's contact with the base of Orthanc shimmy all the way up and disturb his dessert - stood upon the balcony, long white hair flowing all about him. In his right hand was a spoon of Jell-O… still jiggling madly. 

In contrast to his very pale exterior, a figure dressed entirely in garments of midnight shade rushed out behind him. 'Look my lord, it's 3/9ths of the Fellowship!' Saruman shoved the man back inside before Aragorn could get a clear view of him. The Ranger felt so groggy, but it was time to act as leader again.

'Saruman! I've followed this trail diligently, so there's no point in keeping anything from me! Where are you hiding the orcs!?' he shouted up at the wizard.

Saruman looked completely baffled for a minute. He stared down at the little spec of a Ranger and the two dumbstruck others. He then looked off to the way they had come, through the ring of tree stumps and past his gates. He didn't even want to imagine how they'd gotten past the sentries. Then he figured out what the mad little man down below must have been babbling about. 

'You damn fool! I _sent_ them from here! You've been following the tracks backward!'

'You lie!'

'Nuh uh!'

'Yah huuuuuuuuh!'

'I'm confused.' Legolas confessed to Boromir. The man only shrugged, 'Hey, you're blond.'

'Enough!' Saruman shouted down at them again, 'It's time I put you meddlers in your place-' He was cut off as the figure in black rushed out holding something spherical. 'I'LL SAVE YOU MASTER!' the figure threw the object with surprising strength coupled with gravity. Legolas snapped out of his stupor just in time to dive at Aragorn, shoving him out of the way before the object came crashing down on his foot. Up above the light figure rounded on the dark one. 

'YOU STUPID IDIOT!'

'B..but..'

'THE PALANTÍR IS NOT FOR THROWING!'

'Yes b…'

From where he had fallen Aragorn had a clear view of the Palantír. He could feel his eyes being drawn into its mysterious depths. Legolas and Boromir were shouting words at him but they sounded so far away. All that seemed tangible was the swirling darkness. Then the blackness was replaced by a ring of fire and within it, a burning Eye of flame. The Eye spoke to him.

_S…Strider?_

'……………………………………………Frodo!?' then he felt the connection tear as Legolas hauled him up and literally began beating some sense into the Ranger. 

'The Ring's not here, Saruman's about to unleash Isengard on us, we must leave now, NOW!' Legolas and Boromir picked up the prone Aragorn and the three fled back along the path they had originally followed, leaving the maniacal wizard to shamelessly berate the moronical minion.

'Mastah... (oof) they're escaping! Master, use your (ow! ow! Not the wrists!) powers to blow them away!'

'Dammit man, I'm a wizard not a magician!'

Saruman savagely gritted his teeth as his mind ran over possible courses of immediate action to take. He managed to calm himself down considerably. He spoke in a deep lulling voice. 'What does it matter… they learned nothing of what we're conducting here in Isengard. I'll send out another small patrol to slay them… just to be safe. You on the other hand-' he rounded on the trembling man once again. 'You better be getting back to Rohan. As much as I appreciate your inane updates, I have much at stake there. Now go.'

The man bowed again and again as he backed away from the menacing figure in white.

'Many colours!' shouted Saruman.

'Pardon my lord?'

'Nothing. Make sure you bring the Palantír up safely… and for your sake it had better not be as damaged as it looks.'

***

That day two troops of Uruk-Hai set off from Isengard at a horrifying pace. The arrival of the three-baffled-Fellowship-members had rekindled Saruman's confidence - albeit, after totally confusing him at first. That they had come all the way in such a desperate state proved to him beyond a doubt that his fighting Uruk-Hai had indeed laid hold upon the halfling Ring Bearer. The Uruks hadn't returned yet though, and so he was sending out reinforcements to aid them. That was troop number one.

He grinned coldly, and rubbed his aged hands together. They were like iron rods stretched over with parchment, wrinkled and dusty. 

The Ring was so close at hand. To his hand. To the White hand of Saruman.

Another thing that had heartened him was that only _three_ had come of the _nine_ that had set out together. It implied that Gandalf wasn't the only Fellowship member to kick the proverbial bucket. His second troop of Uruk-Hai was sent to ensure that the Elf and two Men rejoined their fallen comrades. Only the Ring Bearer would be left alive. For how long? Well, Saruman supposed that all depended on the hobbit's pain-threshold_._

***

They ran blindly into Fangorn at the northern edge of Isengard, intent on reaching their horses in the shortest possible distance. There was no time to worry over the superstitions that surrounded the woods. The three could feel the urgent travel of the past days weighing heavily on their legs. Even Legolas was weary, which said nothing for Boromir who was half gone already. Every time he stumbled he was more and more tempted to lie on the soft grasses and let his sore eyes rest.

Aragorn was only slightly better off, but he was in a strange, surreal state of mind where physical things had become painfully clear, and things of the subconscious strayed in and out of his line of vision. It was hard to tell whether the din he was hearing was the feet of pursuing aggressors or whether it was the _pound_, _pound_, _pounding_ of his brain trying to stubbornly squeeze through his temples. 

Legolas gave a great cry, 'Ai! We cannot out run them.' He stopped mid-step and whipped out his bow knocking two arrows into it and letting them fly with a musical _fwang_! It was answered by only one death screech and Legolas cursed in his native tongue at the miss. 

Aragron drew Andúril. It felt so heavy. He gave Legolas a weak smile. 'I suppose you wouldn't have any _lembas_ on you, would you?'

Legolas grinned, 'An excellent suggestion!' he hastily pulled a wafer out of his pocket, removed the leaf wrapping and broke it into three pieces. They ate every last crumb. The footsteps drew nearer.

'I can feel my strength restoring!' Boromir cheered.

'Then it's time to put it to good use.' said Aragorn, lifting his blade up slowly… slowly…

Two dozen Uruk-Hai burst into view, frenzied and fierce.

'FOR MIRKWOOD!' cried Legolas.

'FOR GONDOR!' hollered Boromir.

'FOR-'

A blinding light burst between the two opposing parties and they fell back at its brilliance. The steel weapons in the orc hands flared red with fire and they shrieked in pain, dropping them. Then one of the Uruks spontaneously combusted on the spot. The others stared in shock at the charred remains until they turned and ran in fear, the terrible white fire chasing them, biting them.

Spots danced before Aragorn's eyes and he rubbed at them, willing them to go away. The brightness dimmed a fraction so he could see the vague outline of a white robbed man.

'Look Saruman, I don't know what your playing at…'

'Oh,' said a very un-Saruman voice, 'I know it's been a while, but you really shouldn't be mistaking me with him!'

Aragorn choked, he could feel the tears coming as the light withdrew into the figure.

'Gandalf!'

***

The setting sun cast her last glance upon the four travelers before tucking in for the night. They were settled around a good-sized fire just outside of Fangorn, their faces warm and bright. The satisfying crackle and smoky sizzle accompanied by the beginnings of cricket song permeated the air along with the occasional whicker from Hasufel and Arod. It looked to be a starry night.

After a very emotional reunion Gandalf had been quickly pressed by the others to explain start to finish all that had happened to him since his fall in Moria. In truth he found himself telling the same story three times over as the group kept falling asleep at different intervals, but he indulged them. Only now were they all at least _semi_-alert and caught up with the tale. 

Aragorn then told Gandalf of the state of the Fellowship and all that had occurred. Lothlórien. The capture of Frodo. The chase of the Uruk-Hai. The confrontation of Saruman, and his own vision within the Palantír. Gandalf remained silent and expressionless through it all, but when the Ranger finished, he narrowed his eyes and stared darkly into the fire.

'There is no easy way to explain this Aragorn... but what you saw in the Palantír is indeed what you silently suspect.' he raised a hand at Aragorn's attempt to protest. 'I can hear the words hidden between your own. Whether you choose to voice them or not. Listen all of you. When I was granted a second life, many things previously hidden were revealed to me by the great beings beyond time. All along the enemy has been in our midst. Our small friend Frodo was spirited away from us months ago. His spirit is held, locked away in the Dark Tower of Barad-dûr at this very moment - a prisoner of war in this most final battle.'

The others were completely alert now and utterly at a loss for anything to say. It was too unreal to be believable. 

'What deceptive evil is at work here?' Legolas whispered in shocked horror.

'It is true. It is Sauron who has deceived us, cleverly concealing his tainted soul within Frodo's shell. Hiding the truth of his identity and waiting until the chance when he could flee with the Ring, back to his black throne.'

'Actually,' Boromir cut in, 'now that I come to recall it, he wasn't really hiding it at all… more like flaunting it.'

Gandalf gave Boromir a _very_ dangerous look. 'Like I said it was CLEVERLY CONCEALED.'

'No really, he even told us who he wa…'

Gandalf smacked Boromir across the shoulders with his Wizard Staff. First Saruman, now Sauron, he refused to be wrong twice in one epic.

With one evil eye still fixed on the Gondorian, Gandalf continued. 'I knew he was being taken near Fangorn and so I sent my good friend the _Lord of the Eagles_ to warn the Ents that dwell there - for you see I had more pressing matters to attend to. They were supposed to only _hold_ the Dark Lord prisoner until I could return, but they chose that most crucial time to be _hasty_.'

Aragorn blinked. '"More pressing matters?" What other matters could have been more important than this!?'

'Well… you see… _murmurmumblemuttermutter_.'

Aragorn turned to Legolas who shrugged. Even his Elven hearing hadn't picked that up. 

Cryptic wizards make marvelous excuses for plot holes.

Aragorn stood up quickly. 'If what you say is indeed truth Gandalf - and believe me, I would never doubt your word - then we must head out now! Sauron is on horseback and rides Eastward as we speak! We can catch him…'

'Don't fret Aragorn. Things are not so dire as you think. Already he is stumbling into the beginnings of a trap I have laid out, and if I do say so myself, it is quite a clever trap indeed!'

Pause.

'So clever that you won't tell us a word of it, right?' said the Ranger with a raised eyebrow.

Gandalf chose that moment to start acting senile and distracted, so Aragorn simply shook his head and sat down again. 

All was quiet for a time until Legolas voiced a concern that had been growing on his mind. 'Gandalf, you seem to know much now. What do you know of Gimli and the hobbits? What has happened to our small companions?'

Gandalf smoothed back his long white hair, and a look of sadness and confusion crossed his face.

'Alas, I cannot see them quite so well in my mind, friend Legolas. They are far from the place of your urgent parting. They are safe at present... yes, safe. But I'm afraid that is all the information I can give... though I fear they stray nearer to peril with each passing day.' He took in their fallen looks and then gave an encouraging smile. 'Trust to hope. It endures _especially_ in dark times.' 

The Wizard gave a knowing wink and then chuckled. 'But there is need in Rohan! Foul powers are at work that we must right… if the people of this proud land are to survive _these _dark times. After that we ride to Gondor to return Boromir and aid where we can.'

Gandalf stood in a fluid motion, white robes gently swirling at his feet. The other three stood up as well, though unsteadily. 

Gandalf sighed as if dealing with stubborn children. 'No, no. You will sleep tonight, for there will be no time to sleep after tomorrow. Begin your journey at sunrise.  I will ride ahead now and meet you within the courts of _Edoras_.'

Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas began to fidget uncertainly as Gandalf approached the two horses, gently petting their snouts.

'But Gandalf…' began Legolas eyeing the horses, 'the three of us can't all ride back on one horse.'

'Yeah,' said Boromir, 'Think of our reputations!'

'Don't worry,' said Gandalf, 'I have my own horse. In fact it's time I go to him. You three sleep now. I'll see you in Rohan!'

***

Meanwhilst, at the Gondorian/Mordor border…

The large, cobbled and well-used road was flanked on either side by two wooden booths. The black silhouette of tall, leafy trees contrasted nicely against the deep blue of the night sky and the only lights present were that of the stars and the burning torches that lined the road. Walbert, the Gondorian Customs Official, peered out of the booth on the left, a cup of warm ale in one hand. The sound of approaching mounts drew near. Walbert put down his mug on the table, picked up a lantern, and went out to meet the travelers.

'All right now. Anything you boys want to declare?'

The eight Nazgûl looked at one another, slightly wary. They dismounted and stood beside the huge serpentine beats they had been riding.

'Nooo, noothhiing.'

'All right then. What is the reason for your stay in Gondor, business or pleasure?'

'Boooottthhhh.'

'And I suppose you all have your _health insurance_ covered?'

He was met by eight blank and hooded stares.

'Oh come on now, don't tell me you never picked up any health insurance? I don't know what kind of benefits you get in Mordor but there's no coverage here. If you guys get injured you pay up-front and personally.' 

'Fiiiine, fiiiine. Jusssst let us passsssss.'

'No it's NOT fine! You guys strike me as being in a bit of a hurry, but let me tell you that nothing's worth rushing out for without taking care of the possible risks.'

'Really.' Said one flatly.

'Really! If you get health insurance today you'll find that the _task_ you've set out to do will be more enjoyable because any _paranoia_ about "what if" and "oh dear" will be taken care of to ensure maximum comfort.'

'I know some _tassssks_ I'd enjoy putting yoooou throoough.' Muttered another Nazgûl.

'Pardon?'

'Noooothing, noooothing. Look, we're not exactly paaaaranoid…'

'Not now sure, but let me tell you, that if the situation arises where any of your party comes into injury you could end up loosing your luxuries, homes, even those things you ride just to pay for the expenses… now if you ask me…'

'FINE!' shrieked a Nazgûl, 'We'll buy ssssome bloody, bloody health insuranccccce!'

Walbert the Gondorian Border Guy punched the air in triumph. 'YES! And you boys are in luck too, it just so happens that _I_ sell health insurance-'

'Imaaaagine that.'

'- so step right this way!' He gave a scary little giggle then ran into the booth on the right side of the road, ready for business.

To be continued…

KT SHY: some of you might be asking, 'Wait a minute, in act five the Nazgûl were in a tavern ordering omelets, how come they're only just _now_ crossing the border between Gondor and Mordor?' To answer this question, I've brought in a seasoned expert. Gandalf!

Gandalf: Well you see kids, _murmur murmur mumble_…

KT SHY: Thanks for clearing things up for us.

More KT SHY: Long eh? GYAAAH! As always, don't be afraid to tell me if you found something-unsettling plot wise or poorly worded. I do go back and fix these! Suggestions are what reviews are all about. If I were afraid of criticism I wouldn't have posted… I'd probably have just… I dunno, eaten cheesecake instead or something. On a chirpy-er note I'VE BECOME ADDICTED TO ANIMAL CROSSING! I didn't mean to and goodness knows I'll never find time to play… but, meh. My person's name is Frodo and I've started a cult devoted to the Church of Sauron. It's got T-shirts, umbrellas, wallpaper, and fliers sporting the ever-so-pretty-eye-surrounded-by-fire-insignia EVERYWHERE! Those silly animals just need to understand that joining my cult is the only way to save their souls from eternal damnation. 

Thanks for reading! And goodnight! *dives under the covers*

Shagster: I can't think!


	9. As Slimy as Tongues Go

Disclaimer: Characters and places from The Lord Of The Rings belong to the master storyteller of all time: J.R.R Tolkien…….once again, please forgive me sir!

KT SHY: Wow! 53 reviews for only eight chapters? You people are a fabulous encouragement! Time to distribute some thank you's! 

To the ever wonderful _Starbrat_, and the great _SpamWarrior_! Thanks for reading _Sara_… you crazy nut. _AtmaWeapon_, I sincerely hope the rest of this story entertains you as much as the first chapter has! _Miyako__ Inoue, Queen of Cheese_ I'm glad you liked Walbert! I based that part on my mother's refusal to let me go skiing with friends across the border unless I got health insurance… though between you and me she was slightly scarier about it than Walbert. And don't worry about precious Bori, I plan to keep him around… for another few chapters at least *evil chuckle*. 

And a huuuuuge thank-you to _Tylec__ Asroc_! But, really I wasn't referring to Melchior of the Three Magi, lol! I swear! _Melkor_ is the Quenya name of everyone's favourite rebellious Vala. He was more commonly referred to as _Morgoth_after the whole Silmaril incident, but I figured Sauron would refer to his master by his first name and not any of the ones that came after (Morgoth, Bauglir, The Ralph Bakshi version of Sam… and so on!) Okay! Um… heh... that's the end of our history lesson… you all get anA+!

Oh... just to give you a heads up… as kid's you all heard the song "So Early in the Morning" right? Like, 'This is the way we wash our face, wash our face, wash our face. This is the way we wash our face, so early in the morning.' *notices fearful looks from readers so stops singing*

Shagster: I've noticed a recent trend in people begging for their fics to be read…

KT: eh?

Shagster: …So I've jumped on the bandwagon with our official fanfic spokesperson… Gimli!

Gimli says: Read this or you will bear my child!

Eye on the Prize

Act IX: As Slimy as Tongues Go

The winter had been long and hard, but the approach of spring left its mark of deep, hopeful anticipation in the people of Rohan. The beauty of the afternoon sun rising high above Middle-Earth inspired all who felt her greatly-missed warmth to reach new creative levels. One such inspired individual sat high atop the golden thatched roof of _Meduseld_, the dwelling place of Théoden, King of the Mark. He was dressed all in black and sensually strummed a finely polished ukulele… (_To the tune of: "So Early in the Morning" ):_

_'Éowyn has some mighty fine thighs, mighty fine thighs, mighty fine thiiiiiiiighsss…'_

He paused in his art when something moving across the plains beyond the wall of the city caught his attention. He squinted to get a better look. Two horses were galloping hard toward _Endoras_. 

'Oh ho!' The black clad figure looked harder. There were indeed three riders in total - one horse bearing two. _So_, he thought, _they all escaped unscathed… I'm hardly surprised. _

Suddenly a near by window opened with a bang to reveal a fuming Éomer. 'Stop singing about my sister you prick!' He whipped a rock at the man, knocking him off the roof.

'AIEEEEE!'

***

It took a while, but the three companions were finally permitted to pass through the gates after much insisting that they had been invited by Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark, himself. In the end though, the only real factor that had counted in their permission to enter was that they had Rohan stallions with them. It was with tearful good-byes that they bid farewell to Hasufel and Arod, for they had grown attached to the fine horses. Hasufel comforted a sobbing Boromir by patting his shoulder while the man adamantly promised to keep in touch.

Shortly thereafter they stood before The Golden Hall of Meduseld. _'I will ride ahead and meet you within the courts of Edoras,' _Gandalf's parting words echoed in Aragorn's mind. The wizard had implied that there was work here he needed to attend with great urgency, and now that they had arrived they were ready to aid in any way they could. The first course of action would be for them to announce their arrival to Théoden, the King of the Mark, and all around head honcho. That was the easy part, for Boromir was there - even if the guards were skeptical to Aragorn and Legolas, they couldn't ignore the son of Denethor. After that, they'd surely be reunited with Gandalf. 

The travelers climbed laboriously up the stone staircase - the long horse ride from daybreak onward had done them in - and came upon the doorway where beyond resided the Lord of the Mark. Tall watchmen stood before the wood carved doors, clad in shimmering armor. Like most that dwelt there, they were fair-haired and pale eyed. _Almost too pale_, Aragorn thought, _does the light here deceive me or do their eyes have a glazed and misty fashion to them?_

He shrugged the thought aside. It didn't matter. Finally they were all gathered at the top and awaited the official greeting procedure from the guards- where they would turn the hilts of their swords to them in a token of peace and then ask them to state their business.

But nothing happened.

'This is a rude and sorry bunch.' Boromir whispered. Legolas' elbowed him to be silent.

Aragorn took it upon himself to communicate between them. 'Hail and many greetings to you, we are comers from afar…'

'Go away and come back tomorrow.' said one of the guards curtly, fingering the green gem of his sword hilt in a slightly threatening way.

This startled Aragorn. The men at the city gates he could understand, but surely Gandalf had informed _these_ men of their arrival, hadn't he?

_Must have slipped his mind, _Aragorn muttered to himself. Then aloud, 'We've come a long way and we need to speak with…'

'I don't care if you've come from across the ocean itself, go away and come back tomorrow.' 

Again Aragorn noticed the cloudy look in the men's eyes. Something was amiss. He edged forward ready to throw the weight of his many infamous titles around to simplify things. 'I don't think you understand the importance of our presence. It is with great speed that we must consult with your Lord, for I am…' but before he'd taken another step the men all drew their swords in crisp unison. It looked as if things would turn nasty any second, and Legolas' urgent tug at Aragorn's sleeve prompted him to just accept it and walk away. 'Or… or we could come back tomorrow. Tomorrow's good too.'

Boromir remained where he stood even as the other two turned and walked briskly back down the stairs. He wore a look of confusion, glancing at the doors they should have walked through, and the retreating backs of his friends. It was all quite frustrating. In the end he gave the guards a dark, menacing look, full of promise that their insolence would be severely punished. They returned the gaze with a cold, empty indifference as Boromir ran after the others. 

He caught up to Aragorn, grabbing the man's shoulder to halt him. 'Why don't you just tell them who we are?'

'I tried,' said the Ranger distractedly. 'They were looking for any excuse… Legolas, what did you feel?'

The Elf's fair face was twisted in an expression of nervous apprehension, and he brought a long, slender hand up to scratch at the back of his head as if to ward off the feel of watchful eyes. 'They had the look of men bewitched. I fear that if we'd revealed our true identities they'd have taken measures to ensure that we never get in. Or, for that matter, _out_ of this land alive.'

The two men let his words sink in. Aragorn made an irritated _'tch'-ing_ noise and continued to walk down the stone steps away from the Golden Hall. He couldn't sarcastically imagine a more perfect situation to be stuck in. Provisions were low; they'd barely taken anything on their hasty chase of the Uruks through Rohan, aside from some serious necessities. The three were extremely weary and hungry. They needed the King of the Mark's approval to legally stay within the rural city, but they'd been ever so politely instructed by the guards to wait until the morrow. One needed local currency to purchase food and secure a place to stay for the night… but they couldn't get a single coin without - once again - the King of the Mark's approval to legally stay in the city. Aragorn supposed if worse came to worse he could resort to bartering… but one quick look at his companions changed his mind. None of them really had anything worth bartering… on a wholesome level anyway. 

If only Gandalf were with them…

As if reading his thoughts, Boromir stopped mid-step and angrily raised a gloved fist. 'Well if they won't treat lords of our races as such, let's see how they respond to a wizard's threat!'

'Boromir wait!' But Aragorn's shout went unnoticed by the Gondorian who raced back up the steps with a look of grim determination. He slammed up onto the top stair and strode across the stone porch under the wooden arches to face the surly doorkeepers once again. 

'If you do not let us pass to see the King, our friend Gandalf, yes GANDALF, will see to it that-' he blanked on the creation of a decent threat '- erm… you suffer the wrath of very bad things.'

One of the men, a craggy gentleman in his mid fifties with a nasty scar connecting the corner of his lip to one ear, showed a hint of recognition at the name. 'Gandalf? Gandalf……… Ooooh yes! Elderly chap. Long beard, wears a pointy hat?'

Boromir nodded, 'Yes, that's right!'

The man's expression clouded over again. 'Never heard of him.'

***

Nighttime drifted through the still frost-lined windows of a large tavern called "_The Hallucinatory Horse_". High-spirited laughter accompanied with merry songs gave the place a very different feel from another certain equine-related pub in Bree. The young serving maids too showed no fear of the men there, chatting openly and earnestly, giggling happily, and rushing about in a twirl of uniformly blue skirts. Despite the number of serving girls, the owner of the tavern, _Blom_ by name - though it hardly matters because after this chapter he'll never be referred to again - carried about a mug of ale for the refills himself, as he thoroughly enjoyed associating with his customers. Almost as much as he enjoyed all matters of news and gossip. He was a small, jolly fellow. No, he wasn't a dwarf or a hobbit; just an honest to goodness vertically challenged man. An apparent rarity in Middle-Earth. His was a good tavern indeed. Despite the threat of danger that always dwelt so near to Rohan, its people were genuinely at ease… or as close to it as they could be in such times. 

Amidst the merriment sat three sulking characters. They were like black holes, sucking in all the light and joy about them, all the while brooding, and brooding, and brooding some more. They'd been ordering water, because it was free, in an attempt to avoid being kicked out for loitering sooner than they could help it. 

'Don't worry,' Aragorn said to a crestfallen Legolas and Boromir, 'he'll be here.'

But there was no sign of Gandalf. 

The hazy smoke-filled atmosphere stung at Legolas' sensitive Elven eyes, but he continued to gaze about, desperately seeking their wizard friend. A crackling fire gave the room a warm, dark-orange colour complimented by shadows that played off the wooden floors and oaken walls. If anywhere, Gandalf would surely be found sitting in one of those cozy armchairs, puffing away on a pipe, watching the dancing flames. No such luck though, even Legolas' eyes couldn't find what wasn't there. Time and time again during his frequent room scanning, he would make eye contact with a pale figure that occupied the dark corner across the room. When this had happened a fifth time, he turned to Aragorn - the unspoken group leader.

'There's a man there, he sits in the corner where the lamps have run dim - no don't look yet!' he snapped this at Boromir who'd risen out of his seat part way, straining to catch a glimpse of the man. '… he's watching us ever so intently.'

Aragorn scratched at his chin then casually turned his head in the direction the Elf had indicated. It only took him an instant to take in all the physical characteristics of the figure. A white, waxy face bordered by a tangle of black hair. Two watery and sickly blue eyes staring. They were dangerous eyes. One pale, thin hand nursed a clear goblet filled with a thick red liquid; the other slowly played about with a jagged-edged knife that had presumably been used to dig into whatever had been on his nearly empty plate. _Roast sheep_, Aragorn idly thought to himself. It seemed to be the night's specialty, the scent of it maliciously mocking his taste buds. 

He turned back to his companions, keeping his body language neutral. 'I've never met him. But that doesn't mean he's ignorant to our identities, as his spying seems to suggest. Let's see if anyone here knows who our lurking friend is, shall we?' Aragorn waited until Blom, the tavern owner, came near enough in his refill-rounds to be within arm's reach.

'Excuse me,' he gave the man's hat a tug to draw his attention. 'Who's that slimy looking gentlemen in the corner?'

Blom peered over at the aforementioned corner-dweller, then quickly turned back to Aragorn, dropping his voice in a conspiratorial manner.

'Oh, he's one of those high up bureaucratic political figures' he said moving on to tend to actual paying customers, '… around here… we call him "Wormtongue."'

'Wormtongue…' Aragorn mused. He closed his eyes and tried to see if that information meant anything to him. He began to fiddle with the handle of his sword, as all he was hitting was mental dead ends, when a fiendishly, quiet voice began to whisper his name. 

_Aragorn… Aragoorn… Aaaaraaagoooorrn… _ARAGORN!

He snapped his clear eyes open and turned to the door. He made a bizarre noise of terror in his throat - 'GLZEK!' - and dove under the table. 

Boromir, puzzled by the reaction, looked to see what had startled the Ranger. The main entrance was on the far side of the tavern and a cool draft was coming from the open wooden doors, which were still being held by a - _very female_ - figure. The smoke that filled the air gave her an ethereal look, as did the lanterns outside which back lit her crystalline white dress. Boromir recognized her instantly. With great speed Éowyn, Lady of Rohan and sister of Éomer, streamed over unnoticed by the other patrons to the table where they were sitting. Boromir quickly hid his face in the menu so that when she finally arrived it was only Legolas who curiously met her searching gaze. The woman sighed disappointed at loosing sight of her quarry and moved on through the smoky pub.

Boromir put down the menu then spoke in a rather suggestive manner to Aragorn who still lay hidden and shivering under the table.

'Hmm… didn't know _you'd _been to Rohan recently.'

'I haven't! That's the scary part!' he poked his head out to make sure the coast was clear. 'We've never _formally_ met. She must have heard of me, and in turn I've heard of her.'

'Right, right.' said Boromir unconvinced. '……… so how far'd ya get with her?'

'!?'

'Aw come on, you can tell me, we're both Lords of Gondor, we can keep secrets!'

He was cut off by a hiss from Legolas. 'He's leaving!'

Boromir stopped his teasing to watch Wormtongue gather his black robes to himself, get off his chair, sidle out from behind his cramped table and briskly exit the still open doors. At his departure the temperature in the room seemed to raise a tad.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. 'Right. We follow.'

'Indeed.' said Boromir rising to his feet, 'But first…' he dashed over to the abandoned table and began downing the left-over broth and the bread crusts, then he started gnawing on the mutton bones.

'Stop that!' cried Legolas tugging on his arm. 'Boromir stop it, its so demeaning! I said stop it!'

***

There was a biting chill to the air, and pale steam rose from the mouths of the few people still about, rushing to get home to their warm beds. Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas peered around a stack of wood piled up to the side of the well-used earthy street. They watched Wormtongue stride along the path and disappear around a corner.

'Ha ha! Doesn't expect a thing!' said Boromir.

'Yes he does, didn't you notice him slow down considerably before he turned? It's like he wants us to follow.' replied Legolas. 'Very curious.'

They left the lumber pile and sprinted, cautiously, to the edge of the corner they'd seen him vanish behind. Legolas stealthily moved ahead and peaked around the wall to check for danger. All he saw was the black clad figure disappear around another corner. 

'This feels like a trap.' he murmured.

'The sooner we catch up to him the sooner we can be sure.' replied Aragorn. 

The others nodded and resumed the quiet pursuit. The chase went on for the better part of ten minutes, Wormtongue always just turning the corner of an alley they entered. They were being led blindly around a maze of wood and thatched buildings that made up the Rohirrim housing district. Finally when their patience had run out and the three travelers were ready to just sprint for it and grab the jerk, the pursuit came to an end. For one, they were facing a dead-end. For another they were _also_ facing forty-seven bitter and well-armed men. Wormtongue was nowhere to be seen.

A gruff voice spoke to them from amongst the mass of brigands. '"Make sure their bodies are never found" that's our orders.' More men were descending from the rooftops above on ropes. Aragorn finished the count at fifty-three. 

The voice came again, coming closer as a giant, burly figure walked to the head of the group. 'I'm the leader of these swab-buckets, Grufvoice D'man.' He stepped forward cockily to where he could see them clearly. The man, definitely the leader from his stereotypical gang-boss attitude and attire, let out a loud guffaw. 'What, these are the guys we're supposed to mess?' he turned back to the rest of the leather-clad ruffians, 'Hey ladies! Looks like we got worked up for nothing. I'll buy lunch for whoever brings me the blond one's head in ten seconds!'

Legolas shifted his hips into a more battle ready stance, but kept his arms at his sides. There was no doubt he'd be able to draw and shoot at an instant's notice, but the warrior within him suggested he test out the situation before rushing to finish it. Aragorn heard him mutter, 'After taking out all those Uruk's back at the river it'd be embarrassing if we lost to these guys.'

'Don't kill them,' came the Ranger's steady voice in the dark, 'just aim to maim.'

Boromir grinned, a gloved hand firmly wrapped around the hilt of his sword. 'Ooh, a handy cap, eh?'

'No. Our quarrel is not with men; it's with far fouler beings. Besides, these fools don't stand a chance… ELENDIL!'

The last was a roar, as he drew forth Andúril and threw himself at the leader of the ruffian gang. In that split second of surprise the man received a crushing blow to his temple from the hilt of the blade and sagged. The downed man's companions regained their composure far more quickly though, and Aragorn found himself amidst a swirl of flashing knives and swinging fists, all the while shouting, 'Elendil! Elendil!'

Boromir, fired up and eager, dove into the mass and soon bodies were flying everywhere. Having no real use for his bow just yet, Legolas relied upon hand to hand combat. He punched an aggressor hard in the nose, grabbed the man's knife, and ducking a very near decapitation attempt drove the wicked metal weapon into another man's foot. From his position on the ground he swung his legs around, connecting hard with nearby shin's and kneecaps. Ragged but sinewy figures tried to crush down on him but the Elf was too swift, his lithe figure always just out of reach. The whole situation felt oddly like a game to Legolas, and he had to remind himself to take it more seriously. Up above and somewhere to his right he distinctly heard shouting. It was Boromir.

'CHARGING STAR!' The Gondorian held his circular shield in front of him and plowed through the denser part of the mob. They were too clumsy in their numbers, tripping all over each other trying to reach the three targets. Boromir continued to crush the groaning, angry men against the wall he had backed them into when he heard the ominous creak of a bowstring from behind and above. He turned to see a rooftop enemy archer silhouetted against the moon. The bolt was aimed at him.

'SHIELD SLASH!' With another ridiculous announcement of his special-moves, Boromir lifted his shield, spun, and whipped it discus-like at the potential assailant. It struck the ruffian in the chest who let out a loud _'WHOOF!' _as the wind was forced out of him and toppled forward onto some of the men Aragorn had been fighting, knocking them out cold. Aragorn, slightly scraped and _veeery_ sweaty looked up to grin at Boromir, but the man had already launched himself into another insane barrage.

'FINAL JUSTICE!' _pow__ kappo pow pow pow bam bambam baram bam smack crack slam crack clunk rip clank BOOM!_

Aragorn was impressed. 'Well if that don't beat all.' He glanced to his left as seven ruffian men tried to sneak up on him. He rolled his eyes, then got back into the heat of things, 'SWORDY SLASH!'

'Hmm…' Legolas began lobbing arrows to pin several attackers by their sleeves and collars to a large wooden board propped up against the wall, 'ARROW SHOOT!'

It just wasn't the same.

'Aww.'

The Elf jarred as he felt pressure suddenly shove up from behind. He found himself back to back with Boromir.

'Ugh,' Boromir gasped between heavy breaths, '… this is getting us nowhere! They're too numerous, we'll have to start killing next. Wait a minute… Legolas!'

Legolas gave a noncommittal reply to show he was listening. 

Boromir looked quickly over his shoulder at him. 'Blind them with your _Super Sindarin Level Two Soul-Flash Spectacular_!'

'Blind them with my _what-what what-what!?_' 

'You know… the way you Elves are supposed to be able to "become alight with the power of your very beings" and what not?' He began to tense up; they were now in the middle of an advancing circle of unhappy faces wielding heavy maces.

'Well I suppose,' came the musing response. '"_Super Sindarin Level Two Soul-Flash Spectacular", of all the stupid _- all right then!'

He jumped. 

The advancing men froze in their places to see the inhuman display of agility. One minute he was on the ground, then in the air, then landing neatly on an upright barrel behind them. 

Legolas brushed lazily at his sleeves, made sure that they were all paying attention to him, and then in a mighty voice cried, 'BEHOLD!'

Suddenly he flared - bright, beautiful, and terrible. The splendor of his Elven spirit revealed in a white light that shone through him as if through a veil. Then his hair turned black and spiky - believe it or not. All were blinded in awe except for Aragorn, who'd built up tolerance from hanging around his female-significant Arwen all the time. And so he went around and bashed all the brigands in the head with his sword hilt until none but Boromir (though he almost accidentally clubbed him too) and he himself remained of the standing men.

Legolas surveyed them coolly, then withdrew the light back into himself. He smiled at them, regular Elf visage restored, then jauntily hopped off the barrel. Once again they'd survived against painfully ridiculous odds. Aragorn surveyed the area crowded with unconscious bodies, then gave a nod of approval. 'Well, we've dealt with the entrées, but where has our main course disappeared off too?' Starvation was starting to make him talk stupid.

Boromir walked up to the nearest pile of bodies, shoved a hand in, and pulled out a beaten down, semi-conscious ruffian. 'Where's the man who hired you?' he demanded, 'Tell me or I'll east your esophagus.'

While Boromir interrogated the man, Aragorn began to rotate the kink out of his right shoulder. He loosened his vest to let the night air cool him. Legolas prowled around the alleyway, curious to see if there had been witnesses. Strangely enough, there weren't. But with the noise they'd all undoubtedly made just now he was sure that spectators were going to come _very _soon. He paused when something near the dark lip of the alley caught his attention - a different shade of black trying to remain still and hidden within the darkness there. Aragorn walked over to the Elf, sheathing his sword, and was about to say something when Legolas let two arrows fly into the shadows with astounding speed.

'GYAAAAH!'

Boromir dropped his victim at the sound and ran to join his comrades. 'What-'

'I've only pinned him by the sleeves.' Legolas said. 'I think we've found our mysterious antagonist.'

As if on some dramatic cue, the moon rose a little higher in the sky, and faintly illuminated the figure of a man dressed in black. In was Wormtongue.

'Look,' he stammered in a whinny voice, 'if this is about me eating and running, I just want to defend myself now by saying that the mutton was definitely not worth the price you charged for it.'

'I thought it was alright…' argued Boromir in a hurt tone, but Aragorn cut in.

'Don't pretend you don't know us, or that we don't know that you know that we know that you know who we are!'

The other three tried to unsuccessfully work this out in their heads.

Aragorn tried again. 'We only followed you as a caution, curious as to why you were watching us at the "_The Hallucinatory Horse_". That you sent a gang of ill-mannered men to finish us off clearly affirms my suspicions that you have some reason for not wanting us to be here.' He firmly seized the collar of Wormtongue's robes in each hand. 'Tell me why.'

Though undoubtedly terrified, the greater fear of his cruel employer kept his usually slippery worm-like tongue silent.

After regarding the man for a moment, Aragorn lifted his brows and spoke with quiet menace. 'Your silence comes too late, I'm afraid. For the moment you opened your mouth I knew I recognized your voice from somewhere. You were the figure in black standing beside the wizard Saruman. You were there when we made our… detour… to Orthanc. I'm sure of it.'

Boromir and Legolas blinked. As usual, Aragorn never failed to amaze them.

'And what if I am!?' Wormtongue exploded in a spray of spittle. He'd been uncovered, so there was no need for caution anymore. 'It only ensures that I'll survive in the end of all this! Me! I may be a witless minion, but better a living lapdog then a dead hero! These lands will soon fall under the might of the White Hand, the Ring of Power will be _his_, and Saruman the Great will destroy you all!'

'I find that unlikely,' came a kindly, old voice from behind them. Wormtongue shrieked and the three companions quickly turned to see…

'…Saruman's hardly great by any stretch of the imagination.' Gandalf, cloaked in grey, stood there with his staff in one hand, spotlighted by moonbeams.

'GANDALF, WHERE…!?'

'Just undoing the mischief caused by this ground crawler here.' He finished casually for Aragorn, gesturing at the cowering figure in black.

Legolas brushed a strand of hair behind one pointed ear then turned his eyes up to meet Gandalf's sharp, clear gaze. 'How did you find us Gandalf?'

'Simple!' chuckled the usually enigmatic wizard, 'I saw your _Super Sindarin Level Two Soul-Flash Spectacular_.'

Boromir snickered at the look on Legolas' face.

***

Once again they found themselves at the base of the stone stairway to Meduseld.

Boromir turned to Gandalf. 'Are you sure we can go up now? It's not tomorrow yet, and the guards were pretty persistent…'

'I'm sure they'll be in a much kinder mood to you now that there is no witchery fogging their minds,' said Gandalf giving the hood of Wormtongue's robe a meaningful and none to gentle tug. 'In fact on that note, I have things to discuss with our friend Gríma Wormtongue here -' the captured man began to gibber '- so you three go on ahead.'

Even stiffer than before from the fierce battle, the Elf and two Men painfully dragged themselves bodily up the stairs, ending with a wheezing sprawl on the top porch. The same watchmen from before looked curiously at each other before a few walked over to help the travelers to their feet.

'Hail, comers from afar.' said the man who helped Aragorn rise, 'I am Háma the Doorward of Théoden.' One look told the Ranger that Gandalf was right. The cloudiness was gone from their eyes, only the sharp, scrutinizing mistrustfulness expected of a palace guard remained.

Once everyone was in a - at least semi - standing position, Háma and the others returned to their position before the doors. 'I am afraid that you cannot enter though. You will have to tarry till the morrow.'

Boromir groaned. Despite the fact that the guards were more polite then they had been that afternoon, the situation was still the same. Homeless and penniless.

'Look,' said Aragorn growing desperate, 'I know it's late in hour but once you tell Lord Théoden of our presence I am sure he will be ready to welcome such friends…'

'Friends eh?' said Háma. 'Well armed strangers you are to my eyes.' He looked to Aragorn, the Lórien cloak closed about him to ward off the chill night air. 'And what do you have hidden under your cloak, "friend"?'

Aragorn gave a frustrated huff, tossed aside the cape, and drew his sword for them to see. 'Just as its wielder has many a name, so does the blade. For this was Narsil, the blade broken, it became Andúril, the blade re-forged, and it will soon be Mârdil, the sword I'll have to pawn to keep myself from STARVING IN ROHAN!'

'He's got a point,' said Boromir irritably. 'So little hospitality towards us, even in such times as these, is ridiculous! Do you not know who we are? I myself is… wait… I myself AM Boromir son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur son of Elendil in the line of kings!'

The guards gasped and their eyes widened at the names. They had been amazed enough to be before Boromir, but the heir of Isildur? One of the old royal line? It was at this point, while the men were still in awe, that Gandalf entered the scene with a defeated looking Wormtongue. The wizard gave a knowing smile to Boromir who waited for the expectant hush to announce, '… and Gandalf the wizard stands before you now!' 

Stunned silence on the part of the guards. 

Boromir grinned in triumph. He had gotten through to these lugs after all! In the most effective way too. He caught Legolas' slightly miffed look and then hastily went on to finish the introduction. 'And this is just some pointy-eared jerk who follows us around all the time.'

There was a nasty _screeeeeach_ that came from Legolas' teeth grinding together in fury. _Patience me, _he thought to himself, _The__ insufferable human will pay soon enough._

He then set about trying to make Boromir explode with his mind powers.

To be continued…

KT SHY: Yeaaaaaah, I'm getting lengthier aren't I? Eeeeeeee! Ooh! Notice how the total number of ruffians matches the number of reviews? Yee heee heee. On a different note, I'm having a bit of a dilemma because there is SO much that the Tall Troop needs to do but I should get back to Sauron and the Small Troop as well. What do you think? Had enough of the Tall Troop for now or are you still craving more Bori, Leggy, Aragorny action? Ohhh, its crazy rain tonight… sounds like claws are raking across my roof…..got off topic. As always, if you've read this far please review, it's a nice treat for KT… oh and Shagster, mustn't forget about him must we precious?


	10. Preparation H: Helms Deep

KT SHY: Yeah haw! This fic here be movin' into the double digit chapters yer' varmints! This calls for a celebration! Gasp! Sixty reviews… (choke)… (sob)… I lurv you guys ^_____________________________________^

To_ gandolegornliodorypinieieta _it gladdens my heart that you're on my side! You show those Eye-on-the-Prize despisers what for! _Pistachio Torte, _(what a delicious name!) thank you for joining us, I hope you and your sister stay satisfied with my output of ficcy-ness! _Eve of Mirkwood_ glad to see you back and 'hungry' for more hee hee! To _Sara_,thanks! I try to outdo myself with each new act! Great to see you again _Starbrat_ you lil' deary you! _i48_ nice to meet you and I'm very glad to have made your first LOTR fanfic reading experience a good one! I sure hope you stick around for future chapters! _YunSuks__ ChunSah _I'm not sure which reviewer you are but thank you for bringing this lost lamb to our EOP cult, hee hee hee! -____- And to _SpamWarrior_! Wow! Your review really brought a bashful smile to my face! I'm happy to know I'm not committing historical and canonical atrocities, as I so enjoy writing this fanfic! And I hope you all continue to enjoy reading it!

Shagster: (free style rap promotion of this fic)

This episode you guys are in for a treat! 

How much of a treat? 

Well count the toes on your feet. 

Multiply it by the lines on the street. 

Add the square root of any people you meet. 

Now sit down in your seat… 

and…

yeah…

Eye on the Prize

_Act X: Preparation H: Helms Deep_

'I know but can it be fixed?' Saruman's deep baritone echoed off the walls of his inner Orthancian chamber.

'Weeeeeell, tha's the problem ya see.' Though the Palantír on its marble dais was_ well_ passed shoulder height, the repairman still managed to give Saruman a hearty view of his ass. 'You could just replace it with a new one, ya know.'

'Buh-tch-guh- do you realize how much those cost!?' Saruman waved his arms around frantically to emphasize the point. 

'Well get a new one or don't, either way I get paid by the hour and so far its costing you seventy-two coppers.'

'Ilúvatar dammit!' 

***

The doors slammed shut with a roaring echo that filled the long dark hall. Small fires were lit on low oil filled basins for warmth, which resulted in an overkill of smoke that curled around the stone columns and gave the room a hazy look. Gandalf lead the _Tall Troop_and a downcast Wormtongue to the far end of the room where a small set of stairs ascended to an ornately carved wooden throne. A man dressed in fine fur robes paced anxiously before the throne. He was white-haired and tall with a regal, powerful air about him, but had the look of a man only just recently recovered from a taxing illness. His pale eyes lit up when he saw Gandalf, ivory Wizard-staff tap, tap, taping across the floor.

Gandalf threw aside his tattered grey cloak to reveal the snow-white garments beneath. One gnarled hand was fastened securely to Wormtongue's shoulder as he addressed the Lord of the Mark. 'I have found your rogue advisor, Théoden King.'

Wormtongue grinned sheepishly, the fear of Eru apparent in his eyes, which kept darting to the door behind him. 'M..my lord… you look well.' 

'No thanks to you, you rotten dirt eater!' Théoden snarled. 'One of you hold him, I've got this strong urge to deliver some major smack down!' 

Wormtongue tore away from Gandalf in horror and threw himself behind one of the columns, trying to keep as much distance between himself and the enraged monarch as possible. Háma and the rest of the guards approached slowly, unsure of how dangerous the man could be when cornered. Things looked to be slowly gaining in favour of the guards when the main door of the hall burst open with a _bang_.

Éowyn stood there, panting heavily and cheeks flushed from running. 'My Lord! My Lord! The guards say that my brother has been locked in the dungeons by order of Gríma Wormtongue…'

She suddenly noticed Théoden 's tall posture and froze in her wonderment. This surely couldn't be the same man who's side she had momentarily left that evening after supper! Wasn't he nothing but a mumbling shadow _then _of what stood in his place _now_? 'Oh Uncle!' she beamed, 'you're well!' 

Gandalf began to shout out a warning but it was too late, Wormtongue closed the distance with a slithering fluidity and seized the maiden, one arm wrapped around her slender waste and the other brandishing a small knife to her soft neck. She opened her mouth but no sound came from within. 

He had to stop himself from trembling at the nearness of her. The sweet scent of her hair. The warmth of her skin under his cold grasp. Of course Wormtongue had no intention of killing her, how could he? How could he harm this woman whom he sought so relentlessly… even if only in his deepest thoughts and darkest dreams. But _they_ didn't know that. 

Everyone in the room froze, starring horrified at the sight of the delicately pale woman held at the mercy of the black clad devil.

Aragorn heaved a sigh. He knew exactly how this would turn out. He'd seen it enough times to recognize the scenario. He'd end up saving her and then she would be even _more_ infatuated with him… if that were possible. But there really wasn't a choice… so he began to draw his sword…

Éowyn suddenly let out a macho guttural battle cry that stunned them all, and slammed the back of her head into her captor's face. Wormtongue cried out in pain and let go, both hands cupping at the blood spilling freely from his broken nose. Éowyn used the opportunity to punch him hard in the stomach and when he fell to the ground she proceeded to drop kick him.

Everyone else just stared, stunned. Andúril slipped from Aragorn's fingers and slid easily back into its sheath.

The sound of sliding steal snapped Théoden out of the stupor and his face contorted to one of indescribable rage. He stalked forward, drawing his own blade, it shrieked gratingly against its jewel-encrusted scabbard. 'Wasn't it enough, your emaciation of me? Now you feel the need to attack my poor, defenseless sister-daughter as well!?'

Boromir wisely drew Éowyn away by the hand as her uncle bore down on Wormtongue.

'How dare you sully her with your filthy hands!' Théoden raised his sword upward intent on driving it down and seeing how many chunks he could slice his treacherous consultant into when Aragorn leapt forward and grabbed his arm. 

'No my Lord!'

Théoden struggled against the "younger" man. 'Guh… Aragorn… erf… now is NOT the time to decide you want to be a pacifist!'

'But he doesn't have to die my Lord! ………………………………… There's always the _cactus patch_!'

***

'Alright then. Just sign here pal.'

He did so, and the delivery guy looked at the signature - "_Saruman__ the Many Coloured" _- and at the plain white robes the Wizard wore. He lifted an eyebrow. 

'Just give me the DAMNED RECEIPT!' Saruman raged, frightening the portly delivery guy into doing just that and then racing out of Orthanc in faster time than he had gotten there.

Saruman growled. The nervous twitch going off insanely by his left eye. He tore open the package, removed the bubble wrapping paper - after snapping a few, because no one can resist it - and gently lifted out…

'Ahhh… perfection.' He placed the new and improved Palantír on a black stone pedestal and grinned when it flashed to life. He placed an elegant alabaster hand over its smooth surface and closed his eyes. An Eye wreathed in flame filled the whole of his mind.

'What does Sauron, Lord of the Rings and all Middle-Earth command of me?' 

Low rumbling like the slow churning of stone echoed throughout the chamber. Then a rich, dark voice spoke.

_Build me an omelet worthy of Mordor_…

A few hours later found Saruman curled up in his throne, rocking back and forth on his heels and mumbling to himself. One of his orcs entered the chamber; 

'What news from Mordor my lord?' he asked with typical nosiness, 'What does the Eye command?' 

'I don't know,' Saruman sobbed, 'I JUST don't know!'

***

The noon day sun sat high in the air, casting bright rays upon the tiny caravan making its way across the plane slightly southward and to the west, for there lay the_ Cactus Patch of Eorl_, founded many long years ago for reasons now forgotten. Théoden sat grim faced at the front of the head wagon, discussing political matters with Gandalf. Boromir, Legolas and a newly released-from-prison Éomer sat at the back of that wagon, the two Men catching up on old times. In the second wagon sat Aragorn (smoking off his left lung) and a host of soldiers, guarding the _cage_ that was tied to the back of the wagon as it bumped along the road. Wormtongue alone occupied the cage, shouting profanities at anyone within hearing range. Behind the two wagons walked many Rohan village people, coming along to see the spectacle. The fact that they found such things entertaining proved once again the universal boredom of Man.

A slight movement beside him caused Aragorn to look to his right. He nearly swallowed his pipe when he saw it was Éowyn. She sat with her knees drawn to her chest and her arms smoothly wrapped around them. Aragorn's brain went spastic. 

_GYAAAAH! Okay, okay. Quick, think up innocent conversation that won't lead this down the wrong road._

'You handled your capture back there with admirable skill.' he began, lazily taking the ornate pipe from his mouth, 'It takes a certain type of bravery for a woman to lash out so desperately at risk to her own life.' 

The woman smiled slightly, her grey eyes turning up to meet his. 'I just kept thinking, "if I die I won't see Lord Aragorn again".'

'Euuuuuhh…'

The wagon jarred as its driver halted the horses. Aragorn grabbed onto the sides for support while Éowyn tried hard to accidentally fall against him.

The soldiers hopped off and went around to retrieve Wormtongue while the crowd moved to the front to secure an excellent view of what would soon transpire.

The Cactus Patch of Eorl was perhaps three kilometers long in diameter and laden with prickly plants of all spiky shapes and sizes. When all were assembled, Théoden nodded to Éomer who drew forth a roll of parchment. He read from it in a clear, loud voice. 'Gríma son of Gálmód, you have been charged with high treason to Rohan. Through conspiring with the traitorous wizard Saruman you brought tragedy upon our land and served to weaken our King in a time of conflict where he is needed most.' He looked up at his uncle, standing stony faced, Gandalf at his side. 

Éomer continued. 'Put on top of that the fact that you resisted arrest, sent a squad of ruffians to murder three political figures-' Aragorn, Boromir and Legolas growled at the memory '-had ME locked away under false pretense AND assaulted the Lady Éowyn-' sympathetic sounds rose from the crowd towards their beloved Lady, who pulled out a kerchief to dab at her eyes '- it's no cause to wonder why you now face a sentence of prickly doom!' he chucked the parchment behind him. 'Any last words before that sentence is carried out?'

'Yes.' spoke Wormtongue flatly. 'And my message is this…'

He disappeared within his large black robes and the guards who'd been holding him gasped. They didn't see him slip out the bottom and speed away with dark determination on his face. From his boot he drew a long, curved knife - _'Where does he keep getting those from?'_ muttered Legolas - and threw himself at Aragorn. 

'Saruman knows who you think you are!' he screamed while swinging wildly, 'Isildur's heir will NOT rise to interfere with the might of Saruman and Sauron!'

Aragorn threw himself back but not before the blade grazed his chest, slicing at the cord he wore around his neck. The _Evenstar_ glittered as it fell to the dusty ground, unnoticed as Aragorn and half-a-dozen armed men tackled Wormtongue into submission. 

'Alright boys!' yelled Théoden, 'I think it's time to see some justice done!' The tangled heap of guards gave a muffled, approving response, hoisted Wormtongue up, ran to the edge of the pit, and chucked him in.

_POINK!_

'GYAAAAAHAAAAAAAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!' The force of the sharp prickles shot Wormtongue up, comically careening high into the air and out of sight. The crowd went wild with mad cheers, whistles and waving flags. 

'I love it when they do that.' said Théoden, wiping a tear.

***

Saruman sat busy with intense concentration at the desk in his study. He gingerly lifted a card from its nearly spent deck and placed it atop the growing structure. He was going for the highest card tower record. Still being disgruntled at loosing the orc production contest to Sauron, he took solace in that he had the advantage at card towers because Sauron had no hands. He gazed in adoration at what he had accomplished. The dazed smile didn't even move when Wormtongue came crashing through the window and straight into the masterpiece. Cards scattered in every direction. Saruman's eye began to twitch again.

'That accursed Cactus Patch!' Wormtongue groaned while rubbing his soar legs and backside. He looked up. 'Oh master! Incredible, what were the chances that I'd end up landing in here?'

_Twitch, twitch._

'At any rate, that meddling fool Gandalf has healed Théoden, Rohan is no longer under our- your control.' Wormtongue narrowed his eyes as he spoke, 'I also found out that that accursed Éomer destroyed the Uruk-Hai troop you sent that should have had the captive Ring-Bearer with them. He wouldn't give me details so I had him chucked into prison but I suspect that Rohan might have the Ring now. They also know without a doubt that you are their enemy now and… master? What's wrong with your eye? Wait… why are you looking at me like that? AUGHH! Master put your staff away! Ow! Argh! NOOOOOOOOO!'

***

'Ahhhhh, what a pleasant sunny day! There's nothing like a good _Shrimming_ to brighten my mood.' Théoden took in a deep breath of clean air and grinned. The cart bumped along jauntily. 

'Shrimming?' Bormir asked quietly, leaning over to Éomer. 

'"Shrimming,"' said Éomer in the voice of a man reading a dictionary, '"the process of chucking unwanted persons like felons and old people into a pit full of prickly plant life."' He blinked, 'It's a Rohan tradition, when my time comes to take the throne it'll be my duty to toss the old codger in.'

'You say something sister-son?' said Théoden giving his nephew the death-glare.

Éomer flinched. 'Nothing, my avuncular patriarch.' _Did he just call me "sissy son"?_

'At any rate,' said Théoden with an arched brow, 'we will be returning to Meduseld momentarily. Go inform a rider to announce our return, sister-son.'

Éomer stood up and bowed, 'Yes, my lord.' _There! He did it again!_

Éomer hopped off the moving wagon and sprinted back along the squashy mud road to fetch a rider. This left Boromir and Théoden alone in the wagon. Boromir coughed, aware of the awkward silence. The stern King of the Mark slightly intimidated him, not to mention the fact that Théoden displayed open annoyance at Boromir's usual crowd-winning antics. He searched for something he could say to win over the older man's favour. He found it.

'Okay, two guys go to a bar, the first guy says…'

'FOOL!' shouted Théoden, 'I DESPISE BAR JOKES! If it weren't for your father Denethor, I'd so strangle you right here right NOW!'

Gandalf appeared out of nowhere, hopping aboard the wagon and laughing merrily, 'You'd be hard pressed to succeed in killing him Théoden King! This brave Gondorian is made of sterner stuff than you can imagine and most likely has a good hundred years still left in him!'

Suddenly a freak bolt of lightning cracked across the absolutely cloudless and sunny sky. Boromir groaned. He'd been on enough adventures to know _dramatic foreshadowing elements_ when he saw them.

'Oh pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease let that one be for Legolas.'

*******

When they returned to the palace everyone sat together to enjoy a late lunch of mouthwatering variety - Aragorn and Boromir especially since they hadn't eaten anything so good since their departure from Rivendell (Lothlórien didn't count because they were all vegetarians there. Tofu this and tofu that, it became quite tiring after a while). The senseless gorging was only momentarily halted when Théoden whapped a gristle covered fork against his goblet.

'A'ight feople,' he shouted, spraying his guests, 'Der's gonna ve a meefing (gulp) to discuss what it is we should do about the unavoidable onslaught of Saruman, that our most welcome friend Gandalf has warned me of. This council will take place (glomp) en der comfin room at der cashtle's lerft shide in fivge hoursh, rife beshore (garrrr) de shun shets. Doo shoo underfand?'

'Yesh!' shouted all the men present who were immediately involved, shooting chewed up food in every which direction. Legolas dropped his head onto the table and began openly sobbing at how disgusting the race of Men could be.

After the meal was finished and the servants started to shoo everyone out so they could start cleaning, Éowyn found herself roaming the halls looking for Aragorn who had some how been able to escape her somewhere in the crowd. He'd stubbornly avoided her and her tender mercies on the ride back from the_ Cactus Patch of Eorl_, which hardly surprised her. She only wanted to make sure Wormtongue's knife hadn't hurt him but she knew how men could be, especially with her brother, who could have an arrow practically sticking out of his forehead and still assure her he was fine.

'_Stupid male bravado, honestly._'

But, having nothing better to do she spent the afternoon searching for her wayward warrior. She came upon him unawares walking along the western corridor much later. Long shadows filled the hall from windows that lined the left-hand side - she had to squint against the bright setting sunlight as it glared through. Doors, brilliant banners, and carefully sculptured statues lined the right side. Moving swiftly and silently on her soft slippers she raced after Aragorn. 

She opened her mouth to call his name, but it was a man's voice that said, 'Aragorn!' She froze in shock. 

_What the… I know that spicy food isn't too great for your voice but still! …_

Then she realized that she had in fact _not_ spoken. It was Legolas who had spoken, striding toward Aragorn on his long legs. She placed herself behind the stone statue of a rearing horse so that she would not be seen.

The fair-faced Elf began to speak words that she couldn't understand, and Aragorn responded in the same beautiful language. They spoke in a serious manner for a time. She then watched as Legolas held out his hand to Aragorn, opening it with slow deliberation. On his palm lay a white jewel, its beauty beyond compare. Even Éowyn had never seen anything so lovely, and she was a daughter of Kings. Aragorn's hand flew to his chest and he began to stammer. Legolas grinned at his reaction, looking Aragorn in the eye and speaking quietly. The Man, gently, endearingly, took the glittering gift into his own hand. A look of pure, boundless love lit his face as he gave a joyful cry and embraced the Elf.

Éowyn's jaw dropped. _No_, she thought, _it couldn't be! Could it? No! I refuse to even think it! _Yet in her heart she knew that Aragorn had been too perfect to be true. _No! Shut up stupid narration shut up! _Too perfect for any woman. 

_You knew he could never be yours. _

She brought a hand to her throat, trying to stem the tears, but it was no use. She turned and fled the hall. Speeding around a corner she ran into something solid. Looking up through tear-brimmed eyes she saw that it was Boromir.

'Dear Lady, what ails you?' his voice was full of concern.

Éowyn broke down sobbing then, and the only word he could discern was "Aragorn."

He had no idea what brought about this drastic change in a Lady renowned for her cool, reserved demeanor. Did the Ranger have something to do with it? 'Where's Aragorn?' he asked, slightly suspicious.

He gently took her chin in his hand, lifting her down cast face so that she could see the sincerity in his own eyes. Two streams of tears fell down her cheeks. 'He… Lord Aragorn……. he has….. he has………………...he has fallen through the closet.' 

(Cue theme song of Gandalf's fall from _The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm_ on the FOTR soundtrack, available wherever good CDs are sold). 

Boromir blinked. 'Eh?'

***What ACTUALLY happened***

The following dialogue has been translated from Elvish for your reading convenience. Enjoy.

Aragorn briskly walked through the halls, footsteps clacking on the stone underfoot. There was much urgency in that walk.

'Aragorn!' He paused upon hearing his name, then turned to see Legolas striding up to meet him. Legolas began to speak in his native tongue. 'I've been looking all over for you!'

'Ah! Well here I am.' He spread out his arms to emphasize the fact of his presence. 'But come, we've all been summoned to meet with Gandalf and Lord Théoden, were we not?'

'Yes, yes, but I need to talk with you before we go in.' the Elf's tone was serious. 

'We need to discuss the inevitable war against Saruman, can what you _need_ to say not wait?' Aragorn was rightfully a little testy. He was already late for the meeting because he'd been doing his best to avoid bumping into Éowyn all day. He was trying to live up to being "The Lost King" and all that, and being late for the meeting didn't do his image any favours.

'The way you say it makes me sound like I'm deliberately trying to waste your time. No, no, I suppose it can wait.' Then with forced casualness Legolas added, 'Oh, you seem to have dropped this by the way.' He held out his hand, opening it slowly to ensure a maximum expectation reaction from the Ranger. 

On his palm lay the Evenstar. 

Aragorn's hand flew up to his chest to where it should have been, but there was nothing there. With the recent hectic events he hadn't noticed its absence. 

'Wha… how… when?' he decided on "when". 'When did I loose it!?'

Legolas grinned. He loved getting a rise out of Aragorn. It was so funny. He spoke softly though; knowing how important this was to the Man. 'Back at the Cactus Patch, Wormtongue cut it from you when he tried to take your life. In the scuffle that broke out nobody saw it. I did, but then again I was the only Elf present wasn't I?' 

Aragorn gently, endearingly, took his beloved Arwen's gift in one rough, callused hand. It was so beautiful and pure, and when he looked into its depths it was almost like he was gazing into his princess' blue eyes once again. He loved her so much.

He looked up at Legolas, a mix of relief and happy memory lighting his own face. 'This is an unexpected but much welcome comfort! Thank you Legoals!' he threw his arms around the Elf. 'If she found out I'd lost it, she would have killed me!'

***

Éowyn's crying had ceased, but occasionally a sad sniffle would come from her curled up form. Boromir grimaced. His shirt was soaked from where she had buried her face earlier to hide her tears. He continued to comfort her, tenderly patting her back. He still had no idea what she was so upset about. They were sitting in the inner plantation sanctum of the palace… a Greenhouse absolutely polluted with the lovely smell of flowers and the singing of exotic birds. An orange glow filtered through the western window as the sun melted into the brown-green plains of Rohan. Boromir suppressed a yawn, which caused his eyes to water and his nostrils to flare. They'd been sitting there for hours. 

_Waitaminute__, _he thought suddenly, _wasn't I supposed to be somewhere? Oh well, couldn't be too important a thing if I can't remember it._

There was a hiccup from the smaller form beside him.

'You know…' he began tentatively, 'I'm no expert, but I find that problems can feel better once they _come out_…' - she choked again - '… rather than being kept inside to simmer, if you know what I mean. Do you… want to talk about it?'

She gave a shaky breath. 'Well, how would you feel if the man you'd fallen in love with harbored affections for someone else?'

'Erm… I can't really comment seeing as how I've never fallen in love with a m-'

'Oh you know what I mean!' she snapped. As quickly as she'd said it she regretted speaking so harshly. He was only trying to help. 

She lowered her head. 'Forgive my curtness, my Lord.'

'Meh, no biggy.' came the shrugging response. 

'I suppose it's no secret that I've become slightly infatuated with Lord Aragorn.' she began again.

Boromir gave a polite cough.

'Okay, I'm OBSESSED! He so regal, so powerful, so compassionate, so heroic…' She sighed wistfully. 'I've never felt so about anyone, priding myself on steely resolve… but even the most hardened maid is allowed to have feelings, isn't she?'

'I gue…'

She plowed on, 'And when I went to go tell him of my feelings I saw something that wrenched my heart in two. Honorable Lord Legolas exchanging a pawn of doting splendor to Lord Aragorn which was received in emotive empathy and sealed in welcome enfolding!'

'Um…yes?' Boromir had no idea what she was babbling about.

She bit her lip, then tried again. 'Well, he gave him a gift of affectionate intention, which was returned in kind through deepest embrace.'

Boromir just nodded. Uncomprehending.

She flushed slightly and tried to be blunter. 'Lord Aragorn…he's… um… a _"Man's man"_.

'Yes he's a great leader,' said Boromir finally satisfied that they were communicating on the same level. 'He'll lead us all to the White gates of Gondor. Have you ever been there?'

'No, but I…'

'They sound the horns with glowing fanfare. My father is a noble man…'

'Um, excuse me…'

'… his rule is failing and he looks to me to make it right…'

'BOROMIR!'

'Si?'

'HE'S A POOFTAH'!'

Something clicked in Boromir's head. 'Wait, you mean to say that you think he's-'

Éowyn cringed, slightly embarrassed, 'We'll what was I supposed to think? I mean-'

'No.' He shook his head solidly.

'Not even…?'

'Definitely not.'

'But it looked so much…'

'Absolutely not.'

'You don't suppose maybe…'

'Nope. No. No way……………………………. Never.'

Éowyn's face lit up then, grey eyes dancing. 'Oh Lord Boromir, you have no idea how happy I am to hear it straight from you! Oh what a daft little fool of a girl I've been. I must go to him! I must find my dear Lord Aragorn!' She pecked his cheek and then giddily pulled her skirts up around her legs and sprinted away at a break-neck pace. Banners ruffled in her wake.

The goofy grin of approval directed at her gorgeous gams slipped away as Boromir, still seated, gave an involuntary shudder. 'Man, I can't believe she thought he was openly flatulent…'

***

'… so be it.' concluded Théoden. 'I have taken all your council into consideration and my own as well. With the impending onslaught of Isengard we have no choice but to evacuate every last man, woman and child to our strong hold at Helms Deep. Go then, begin the round up. We leave tomorrow at dawn.'

And thus the meeting ended, everyone filing out into the hall to prepare for the leave taking. Gandalf could be heard muttering about the absence of Boromir who should have been present and Aragorn felt a little fearful for the Gondorian. The Wizard looked like he was ready to bite. Suddenly Aragorn heard his name being called. The voice caused him to freeze. 

'Aragorn! Aragorn! Aragorn! Aragorn!' Éowyn dove at him, throwing her arms around his neck. 'It was all a misunderstanding you see! Oh how could I be so blind!'

Aragorn turned to Legolas, eyes begging for help, but the Elf pretended not to see him.

Éowyn smiled. _He can be the one! He can, he can, and he can! He's perfect, just like I knew he would be, and he's all mi-_

She was cut out of her inner monologue when she noticed something sticking out of the back of Aragorn's shirt. It was a tag; carefully stitched to the fabric in such a way that the wearer couldn't be aware of its presence. There were words on it … finely sewn in a dark blue thread. Éowyn read the inscription: _"If you can read this you are too close to my man. Back off wench or I'll spend all my immortality making the rest of your mortality a living hell. ~ lurv Arwen Evenstar (Elf princess at large)"._

Very rigidly, Éowyn loosed her hold on Aragorn, turned around stiffly, and stalked off with an almost mechanical quality to her walk. The Ranger was left standing all alone and confused in the hall. He scratched the back of his head. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and left as well.

***

Saruman was sitting at his clustered table, rummaging through dusty parchments and trying to make some sense of the mess, when Wormtongue came bursting in. Because of the black interior of Orthanc and the black material of the man's robes, Wormtongue's white face appeared to be floating like the specter of a severed head. The thought made Saruman snicker.

'The Men of Dunland, the Uruk-Hai and their evil offspring the Half-Orcs are outside the tower my lord, awaiting instructions on attacking Rohan…'

'Sssst!' Saruman waved his hands frantically and Wormtongue silenced. They both looked over at the Palantír. It sat there innocently enough. Saruman quickly grabbed a rag from his desk and draped it over the powerful sphere to ensure that no prying eyes, or Eye, spy upon them. In his haste however, he hadn't done as good a job as he had thought. A fold in the cloth just near the bottom left about an inch of black polished surface visible. And through it Frodo observed.

Saruman gave a quiet, relieved sigh then turned back to Wormtongue. 'There's not much for me to instruct, I ask only that they do what they do best. Rohan must fall, and I know that this mass of thousands cannot fail me. Théoden is useless to me now, his strings cut by that _meddler_ Gandalf.' He spat the name out like a curse then crossed to the window surveying the massive army waiting outside. They cheered loudly when they saw his face peeking through the window and he gave them a little wave before he turned back to his wormy lackey.

'I took a chance in going against Sauron's will, sending my Uruk-Hai to bring me the Ring Bearer,' Saruman spoke to himself, but Wormtongue nodded and made sympathetic sounds anyway. 

Saruman began to pace back and forth - a mad cheer coming from outside every time he passed the window. 'When I found out of their failure I thought I'd lost my chance, but providence smiles today. Now that the Ring is in Rohan, taken by the Rohirrim who slayed my Uruks, I have a chance to retrieve it. This army will strike hard and fast and put an end to all my worries. Théoden knows by know that I plan to attack. He will lead his people to the strong hold of Helms Deep. It must all end there, every last man, woman and child - there's little use in letting them live so they can oppose me again at a later date. No, the world of Man will end before the week is done.'

Saruman threw open the window completely so that the swarm of terrifying warriors outside could be seen, stretching from the tower to beyond the distant hills. It was beyond massive. 'I will see to it that Gandalf dies and stays dead and that his precious lost Dúnedain King of the Númenórian bloodline follows his lead. Then and only then can I carry on with my plans and Middle-Earth will at last be MINE!' 

'Yes,' Wormtongue gave a singular giggle, 'and then I will take Éowyn to be my wife!'

'Who's doing what now?'

***

It was pure chance that Frodo was in the Palantír room, listening in when Saruman and Wormtongue spoke. As a rule he avoided the place but this one time he'd chosen it as his hiding spot. The reason for hiding was this:

A while back he had felt a tad bit warm and so got a couple of the Dark Tower orcs to come cool him off with large fans. However, since he was made entirely of flame this caused him to grow drastically to the point where Barad-dûr was very nearly burned down. The Witch-King had been chasing him around with a fire extinguisher for the better part of two weeks until he was more or less back to regular size. 

Frodo didn't like the Witch-King much. Aside from the whole stabbing him with a Morgul blade and hence cursing him for all eternity way back when, he was the only citizen of Barad-dûr not won over by Frodo's hobbity charm. This miffed the hobbit-in-blazing-eyeball-body and put a slight dent in his self-confidence.

'_Zis__ hardly matterz_,' he said to himself in (our equivalent of) a German accent because it made him sound tough, '_Eet__ vill be only a matter of taime oontil he breaaaaaaks._'

But he'd gotten off topic again.

_'?'_

Saruman.

_'Right.'___

_'War on Helms Deep.__ Bad. Friends are there. Good. But scary Gandalf-wannabe is sending villains there. Bad. Hmmmmm.'_

It was time for Frodo to make use of what he had discovered (one day while bored) within this fiery alien cage of his. He drew his mind inward, shuddering at the darkness and detriment that dwelled within Sauron's "body", and down mental avenues and psychological alleyways. _There._ He touched upon a primal place set there before the Dark Lord's final creation. It was like a seed and he prodded it with his mind, coaxing it to grow…

***

In his candle-lit chamber the Witch-King was pouring over maps in preparation for the battle he would soon be launching. He suddenly looked up, writing-quill dripping with ink, halted mid word. 'Is it me or did it just get colder?'

***

It was a solemn procession that crossed beneath an overcast sky, fleeing from a stronghold no longer safe and towards another. Rohirrim soldiers rode at strategic parts of the column, sharp eyes ever watchful of the flat land around them. It was somewhere around seven in the morning and the grass was still wet with dew which soaked through the soft leather boots of the walkers but had no ill effect on the more important people who had horses of their own to ride. Éowyn rode upon a ruddy mare, chatting to a few of her handmaidens ridding beside her, breaths coming out in huge wafts of steam.

From the east came a biting wind carrying unseasonable frost. It found its way across and down the nape of every neck, stinging eyes and chapping unprotected hands.

Éowyn shivered. 'The cold seems to have crept back uninvited. And here I'd hoped spring had finally pushed back the relentless march of winter's chill.'

She blinked in surprise when she felt a soft, thick material drape around her shoulders. Boromir was there, wrapping his fur-lined cloak about her.

'My lord,' she stammered, 'thank you but it isn't necessary, I have my own…'

'I would be honored, dear lady, if you would wear it.'

Boromir smiled at her, and then pushed his horse forward to join Théoden at the front.

He was so handsome. So very gentleman like. Éowyn began to wonder why she hadn't noticed it before. She suddenly felt quite thankful for the chill, as it hid the blush that desperately tried to give her away.

Another cold breeze ripped across the plains slamming into Boromir. But he was in no danger of freezing… especially with the four dozen Rohirrim women fawning all over the handsome Gondorian, ready and willing to give up _their_ cloaks at his slightest shiver.

And they say good looks aren't everything.

***

'…they also say that Sauron is trying to freeze the world.' Théoden said conspiratorially, raising a snowy eyebrow.

'Do they now?' said Gandalf, absentmindedly twirling at Shadowfax's mane with one long finger.

'Yes. They believe that the Eye has gone mad and wants now to destroy Middle-Earth rather than concur it… mind you they say the reasoning behind that is His fear of this Lost King of yours.' he nodded his head back at Aragorn who was half asleep in his saddle.

'It's not that I take the fears and superstitions of my people lightly,' Théoden continued, 'but now that we are on the run from our own land, they see everything as a herald of our end. Such as this blasted cold wind… as I've just mentioned.'

He gave a chuckle in spite of himself, but Gandalf wore a look of deep puzzlement, his eyes often moving to the eastern horizon. All it took was Boromir's galloping entrance to snap him back to the here-and-now. The Wizard swung his staff…

_WHACK_

'OW!' cried Boromir.

'Sorry, reflex.' Without Pippin around to vent on, Boromir was the next best thing.

The Gondorian eyed Gandalf cautiously, edging his horse backward and away from him. He found himself beside Aragorn. The two men rode in silence for a time until Boromir couldn't contain himself any longer.

'So………………………. what do you think of Éowyn?'

Aragorn winced, his eyes still closed. 'I try not to.'

'But it's an impossibility isn't it?' sighed Boromir happily, 'She's so fair. So light of step…'

Aragorn snorted, 'Which makes it almost impossible to detect her when you're fleeing for your sanity.'

Boromir however wasn't paying any attention to the Ranger. '…so soft of countenance…'

'So hard of hearing.'

'…beyond compare…'

'She's beyond comprehension too.'

'Fair of face.'

'Quick of pace.'

'Breathtakingly radiant.' 

'Heart-achingly persistent.'

'And she's a nice dresser.'

Aragorn could see that this wasn't going anywhere. So he gave up. 'You know what Boromir? You're right, she is quite a catch. In fact she's just perfect for you.'

'Gosh, really?' Boromir gushed, 'Now I'm all embarrassed!' He playfully punched Aragorn, but being a very strong and well-muscled man, this knocked the Ranger off his horse. 

The tussle that broke out because of this went unnoticed by Théoden who was watching one of his Scouts ride back to report; his steed huffing and frothing.

'My Lord,' the man said while saluting, his face pink and puffy 'there is rumor of a Warg patrol approaching from the west.'

'As is to be expected.' replied the King. The plains were dangerous at the best of times, especially now that there was no doubt as to Isengard's intentions toward Rohan.

But suddenly a fierce howling filled the air and an entire host of wild canine-riding orcs came swarming over the western ridge! The orcs squealed like demonic pigs at the sight of their prey, and urged the beasts they rode to move faster. The Rohirrim froze in their horror. Théoden rounded on the Scout. '"_Rumor_ of a Warg patrol?" Buddy, you have a VERY loose grasp of the concept of a rumor doncha? I SLAP YOU SILLY!' 

And so he did.

Children and adults alike began to wail in terror at the gradually approaching threat. Boromir, Legolas and Aragorn rode to join the Rohirrim warriors with Éomer (still standing because he refused to ride any horse but his own) at their front, waiting for their King's order. Théoden turned to Gandalf, desperation evident on his aging face. 'Gandalf, we will go to hold them off, but there may be traps ahead as well. Please, protect my people!'

Gandalf nodded, then raised his ivory staff high into the air, Shadowfax rearing. A relieved cry broke out amongst the people, 'Follow the White Wizard! He will protect us! Follow the White Wizard!'

Amongst the surge of people turning to follow Gandalf, Théoden could see one rider trying hard to reach him. Éowyn called to her King and Uncle, eyes hopeful. 

Théoden groaned. He knew where this was going. She was in one of those _I-can-do-anything-you-can-do-better_ moods again. His dearly departed sister's young daughter wanted a piece of the action.

But Gandalf reached out, snatching the reigns of her horse with surprising strength, and turned her about. 'I'll need you to help me lead your people to Helms Deep. I'm afraid I don't know the way so well.' He said this with a smile and Éowyn sighed, slightly disappointed. How could she possibly refuse? Throwing one last deploring look at her uncle she set about the task at hand.

Théoden let out a relieved sigh, _that Gandalf's a crafty bugger_, then turned to face his warriors. Their eyes were upon him, expectant. Théoden racked his brain for some awe-inspiring historically memorable speech to give them…

'Well? What are we waiting for? Lez' go!'

The responding battle cry was echoed by the nearing thunder of Warg-Riders. The Rohirrim charged with swords raised high in the air. Horses and fierce canines swarmed the plain, two loud waves of bloody intention. Time slowed and sped at the same time as the two forces collided, and real time was replaced with battle time.

***

Bodies crashed and writhed together in an orgy of death! Swords, arrows, axes, spears and socks with rocks in them were exchanged callously and indiscriminately at anyone looking remotely like an enemy. It wasn't long though before the Men (and one Elf) gained the upper hand and the body count of orc and warg rose quickly. The orcs were viscous as a norm but the Men even more so because of the wives and children they had, and their determination to protect them at all costs. The battle was nearly done with the ferocity at its peak when Boromir suddenly found himself tied by the leg to a stray warg's reigns. Not a good sign. The rider-less creature tore across the plain in a mad frenzy; Boromir forced along for the ride. Then he noticed that the warg was leading him toward a conveniently placed cliff edge. He decided it best to begin seeking aid in this dilemma.

'Um guys…?'

_thuda__ thump thuda thump_

'Uh… um… guys… I'm kinda stuck.'

_thuda__ thump thuda thump_

'Help?…… help! HELP!'

_thudathumpthudumpthudump___

'You guys suck!!!' 

Aragorn slew the last orc-rider easily and stood, surveying the carnage while catching his breath. He paused, then whipped his head to the side, tangled hair wet with blood, sweat and grime slapping against his cheek. 'Where's Boromir?' 

A chilling cry broke out and echoed throughout the field: 

'SinceAragornneverfelloffthecliffinthebookitmakesjustasmuchsensethatIdooooooooooooooooooooooo!'

The cry was Boromir's and Aragorn turned in time to watch as the kamikaze warg dragged the brave Gondorian up off the cliff edge and out of sight.

'no… _NO_!' Aragorn charged forward, sword in hand, eyes wide and fearful. Éomer and Legolas caught up with him, holding him back from the edge of the precipice thinking that he might jump off in his haste to save their fallen friend and so share his fate. At the bottom surged a roiling river punctuated by razor rocks. Aragorn scanned the waters frantically. The warg lay shredded on the rocks but of Boromir… there was no sign. 

Aragorn sagged slowly backwards into a seated position, breathing ragged. His gaze on nothing. 

Théoden walked up to them, exchanged a quick word with his nephew Éomer, and then also came forward to stand before the mouth of the precipice. He looked so old. They were all silent. 

Théoden put a hand to his brow. 'It brings me much grief that Denethor must now share my sorry fate… in loosing his only son.' 

Aragorn spoke quietly, still in shock over the loss of his comrade. 'Lord Denethor has another son.' 

'He does? Since when!?!?'

Legolas lowered his eyes. A great sadness came upon him at the loss of a member of the Fellowship… but at the same time he couldn't help but feel that in some cruel yet inevitable way, universal balance had been restored.

To be continued…

KT SHY: gasp! 

Shagster: So sad, so sad.

KT SHY: *slaps her own hand* bad KT! 

Anyway… I hope you aren't starting to tire of lengthy chapters dear readers, I try to keep things entertaining and all -_________- Only a few more chapters to go and we can get back to the fabulous adventures of Sauron! I do hope you've been missing the little bastard (excuse my Elvish) if even only for a little bit. Regarding the "poftah" bit, you have no idea how long I went listening to the Monty Python skit with the _Bruces_ thinking they were referring to flatulency (just today in fact). Boromir mirror's my naivete in this act. If I've offended anyone I do apologize, just remember I mean no disrespect to anybody, as I write for giggles alone and should be taken with a grain of salt. I love people. ^_______________________________^

Shagster: Salt's good on french-fries.

KT SHY: I'm listening to some strange music right now… _System of a Down_ doing "The Legend of Zelda"…. Truly inspirational! ("Link… he come to town… come to saaaaave, the princess Zelda…") 

Shagster (sings to the _Camp Town Lady_): I got KT a goggley-head Gimli, Gimli, I got KT a googley-head, Gimli, Gimli, yay.

KT SHY: And as always please feel free to press the pretty little button down there… No, not the _Report Possible Abuse _option… the _Submit a Review _one! I love feedback, and this is a huge chapter so if you find errors please let me hear from you! Ooh! And please follow in _YunSuks__ ChunSah's _example by recommending EOP to everyone you know and love, or even the people you hate so much that you spend all day imagining them in various cruel situations! Tackling complete strangers and dragging them to your house or the nearest Internet access computer is plausible too! Later! ^_____________________^

(psst… button)

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	11. How to Butcher a Masterpiece

KT SHY: Ai yi yi!  It's been way more than a month hasn't it?  I've been spending most creative time this summer drawing so there wasn't much inspiration to work on this poor little fanfic.  When inspiration finally hit, my computer fried.  Warning to all: Do not buy Net Vista computers… hell just don't buy IBMs in general.  ANYWAYS enough excuses, I'll get on to the thankses so we can proceed to the long overdue next chapter of…

Eye on the Prize

_Act  XI_: How to Butcher a Masterpiece (in 7,410 words or less)__

KT SHY: Whups!  Forgot the _thank-yous!  Special thanks to i48, Scichan Hirameki, Fernie, starbrat, SARA, JungMinee012, Slinker/Stinker, AtmaWeapon, aznaticme, Yugure, Spamwarrior, Darth T-Rtex, Pistachio Torte aaaaand YunSuks ChunSah!!!_

I dedicate this silly yet well-intentioned story to J. R. R. Tolkien.

KT SHY: Roll em'…

'… and after the war is ended I'll see to it that Éowyn exclaims "who's yo' daddy!?" while baking me cookies!' 

'It amazes me how well you stick to your convictions.' Saruman emptied the last few dark particles from a jar into a huge black and spiky vat. 

'Éowyn Wormtongue… doesn't it have such a pleasant ring to it?  Doesn't it just… pop?  We'll get a place down in the Dead Marshes; it's a nicely affordable and spacious location!'

'Really.' said Saruman, pouring a carton of milk into the vat.

'I plan on having two kids and a dog.  I'll name the dog Éomer and kick it twice daily!'

'Uh huh.' Saruman picked up a spoon and began to eat his breakfast.

'For the kids… I'm thinking Gremah for a boy and Creama for a girl…'

'Mmm hmm.' _munch, munch._

'And we'll come over everyday on road trips to visit dear old uncle Saruman!'

'Gra-ck-ahhh-ghh!' The wizard choked, spraying breakfast in every which direction.  One small particle bounced of Wormtongue's forehead and he looked down at it curiously.

'Oh look my lord… there appears to be an apple seed in your Darkened Apple Crisp Cereal!' 

'… _apple_, eh?'

*_Insert first few chords of evil Isengard music_.*

'I'm going out.  Watch the fort.' Saruman left Wormtongue alone in the dark tower, confused and drippy as usual.

***

Aragorn sat alone at a stone table in the Helms Deep dining hall.  Quiet conversation broke the silence here and there amidst the solemn proceedings of dinner.  The last organized meal anyone would have that day before battle preparations were finalized.  There was a bowl of untouched broth before him and an empty wine flask to his left.  His eyes were on the bowl, studying his reflection amidst the beef balls and mushy carrot bits.  One particular noodle made him look as if he wore a mustache. 

_When did I get so old? _he thought to himself.  

The weight of all his travels had caught up with him again, as if he'd never yet had the chance to rest them off.   

His thoughts went to Boromir. The poor unfortunate Gondorian.  It wasn't as if Aragorn had never lost companions before, he'd buried many friends… but with the Fellowship in ruins, the quest given to him in Rivendell momentarily put aside, the impending onslaught of Isengard, the hope of Middle Earth running around in the hands of a psychotic demon wearing the form of a friend… well… it made loosing another companion feel all that much more agonizing.

He sighed sadly.

A gong sounded from somewhere below signifying that the meal was over and so the room cleared out.  Aragorn watched the faces of the men and boys; ashen and afraid as they made their way toward the armory.  Not all the warm food or ale in the world could lift such heavy spirits.

Aragorn pushed off, but instead of the armory he headed off to the outer wall to get a look at the terrain.

The land was empty of all life.  Nothing grazed.  Nothing twittered. Nothing buzzed.  The green dale (more of a golden brown colour in actuality) stretched far; its grassy slopes lapping the ever mounting hills.   He walked along the fortress wall, letting the chill breeze blow into his face, a rather refreshing feeling.  The rustling of a Rohan flag caught his attention, the fabric pulling and stretching on its post.  The rearing horse emblazoned upon it appeared to be dancing, ready for a fight – 

The flag ripped off and whacked into Aragorn, who had to wrestle himself free.  A bit ruffled, he watched it flutter down to the grass below.  Not a good omen.  If one was superstitious that is.

He continued his stroll until he met up with Gandalf, cloaked in white as usual, who was looking off into the horizon while chuckling and mumbling to himself.  '… and behind us comes a very storm of Mordor.  It will be a black night.'

Aragorn looked too.  The storm clouds were quickly working their way toward them.  From this vantage point it was easy to tell they originated from Mordor.  What black devilry was afoot there he wasn't even sure he wanted to hazard a guess.  

_Poor Frodo.___

***

'Poor Boromir.' whimpered Éowyn, she lay on a cot, wrapped in the ex-Gondorian's fur cloak, letting the tears stain her pillow.   Éomer smoothed back her hair with his hand trying to comfort her.  'Sister… please do not weep.  Not now anyway.  I understand the pain of loosing a loved one but…' he choked on this, recalling his horse Firefoot who was kidnapped so cruelly by the creepy child with bad foot hygiene near Fangorn forest.  Poor Firefoot.  Was he eating right?  Was he eating… at all? 

Éomer broke down into tears at this thought, and it was Éowyn who sat up to comfort him.  

'There, there my brother.  All may not be well but at least we still have each other.   We must stay strong for the people.  We must abide our tears in silence.'

'I would if I could…' started Éomer holding up a piece of chicken, 'but these wings the chef made are just so spicy!'

'I knoooow!' Éowyn bawled taking another bite of hers.  The two fair siblings embraced each other in their grief… both emotional and physical.

***

Legolas sat upon a barrel in the armory, honing the edge of his twin elven blades and watching the people of Rohan attempt to put on their armor with an unhappy expression on his face.  Aragorn clunked heavily down the stairs, and upon making eye contact, was beckoned over by the elf.

'This is suicide Aragorn,' Legolas began in a hushed voice, 'the men here are either two old to fight or two young to hold their own.  It is madness.  They will not survive against the legions that Orthanc is sending.'

'What do you want me to do, Legolas?' said Aragorn in annoyed exasperation, 'This is the best we can throw at them without endangering any non combatants.'

'"Non combatants"?  Aside from the actual soldiers that's exactly what everyone in Rohan is.  Farmers and stable boys are being pit against blood lusting abominations of nature; it doesn't take a strategist to realize how this will end…' 

Legolas began to speak in elvish so no one there would hear the sad discouraging truth.

 '…Aragorn, nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri. Natha daged dhaer!'

'Well if they're gonna be slaughtered brutally,' said Aragorn, his voice rising heatedly, 'and mercilessly by heartless gore-obsessed monsters then I shall troop it out with them and die in mangled pieces as well!'

Legolas slapped a hand to his forehead.   _Idiot.___

Every eye in the room was focused on the two warriors, who looked around expecting mutiny to break out at any second. Aragorn fumbled for something to say…

'Uhhh… we were just talking abooouuuut….'

'Cock fighting.'

'Yeah!  That's it!  Boy do I hate chickens.  They're trouble makers, every one!'

When the people all turned back to what they were doing, Aragorn drew near to Legolas.  'Understand that if we loose heart here, there will be no point in hoping for any victory against Mordor.'

The elf looked aside angrily, 'I know this.'

'Then keep believing.  It's all we can do.' He patted Legolas' shoulder, and then left the room.

_Why me?  _Aragorn sat alone upon a set of stone steps outside looking accusingly at his sword Andúril.  It looked back innocently enough, but Aragorn knew it for what it was.  The root of all his troubles.

'Just haaaaad to go and chop of Sauron's _finger_ didn't you?  You couldn't do the rest of him in?  Oh no, you've left that for _me to take care of.' _

He sighed wearily.  Then he focused his attention on the preparation happening around him.  Men shouting orders, men following orders, men and boys already finished their armor dressing but unaware of what to do next.  One young boy was looking particularly confused, unsure of how to handle the sword that was dealt to him.  Aragorn called him over.

'Give me your sword.'

The boy looked up, then walked over to Aragorn, giving up his sword to the warriors expert inspection.  Aragorn swung it a couple of times, tested the balance, and then looked down at the kid. 'What is your name?'

'Lucy, son of Albert Dreary…'

_Figures.___

'The men are saying we will not live out the night.  They say that it is hopeless.'

Aragorn stood up, the boy's sword firmly in hand, and then did a couple swings followed up with a back flip.  'This is a good sword Lucy, son of Albert….  (pause)… I'll swap ya fer Andúril here.'

 '… what!?'

'Yeah come on, it's the sword that struck down Sauron all those years ago!'

'But I don't want to bear the weight of your forefathers…'

_Fricken__ kid!  That was the problem with people these days, no sense of responsibility._

A little later Aragorn wandered (he does this a lot doesn't he?) up to the roof, looking for some solitude.  No such luck, for there was Théoden, reclining on a lawn chair, wearing sunglasses, swim trunks, and holding a metal reflector pad on his chest to entice the sunbeams to bounce into his face.  Aragorn looked up at the overcast twilight sky… not much sun there at all.  Not to mention the fact that the air was frigid and that everyone else scurried from place to place in their warmest cloaks.  No, Théoden was tough.  Or insane.  Or both.

'Just trying to regain some of the colour I lost during the Saruman manipulation,' Théoden explained in answer to Aragorn's curious expression. 'I'd gotten all pasty, wasn't looking good.'

'Huh.'

'Aragorn, be a dear and check if the enemy's here yet.' The king said, lifting up his shades a bit.

Aragorn looked over the side of the roof, 'Nope…'

'Ah good, I can utilize the last of today's sunshine then.' he slipped the glasses back on.

All was quiet for a time as Théoden continued his sun worshiping and Aragorn** ran through his head just what it was he probably needed to talk to Théodenabout.  Despite his display of bravery and confidence, the Ranger couldn't help but feel a little disheartened over what Legolas had said.  Victory on their side looked bleak no matter how he looked at it.  The Mark could not defend Helms Deep alone.**

'My lord,' Aragorn began, 'we must send for aid.'

'What?'

'Saruman's going to send the entirety of Isengard against us, we cannot fight them alone.  Send for Gondor, they'll help us!'

'Gondor!?  Gondor!?!? Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell?  Where was Gondor when our enemies closed around us?  Where was Gon…'

'Dwarves then.'

'Dwarves?  One is funny enough, but a whole squadron?  They'll be distracting the troops with their hilarious height-related antics.'

'Eagles?'

'You're just fishing for it now.'

'Hobbits!'

'Me thinks we rely _too much on them as it is.'_

'Dwarves!'

'You said that already.'

'Elves! Elves will come to our aid!'

'No.' Théoden chuckled darkly and without humor, 'The elves will not come.  We are not so lucky in our friends as you.  The old alliances are dead.  We are alone.'

Suddenly a horn sounded from below.  Aragorn ran to the side of the wall and looked down to identify the commotion.  Éomer was shouting orders and men went about trying to quickly get the gate open.In front of the gate, horns still blowing, stood a small army of elves.  Théoden looked down at this, then sharply over at Aragorn who was glowing.  Aragorn so loved being right.

'I saw you smirking.' Théoden growled.            

'It wasn't a smirk!' Aragorn defended.

'It was a smirk.'

'I wasn't smirking!'

'You were smirking.'

'……………. yeah okay, it was a smirk.'

The elves stood within the stony courtyard, all dressed in elegant armor and wielding long bows.  There were about seventy of them, lined neatly in rows.  The men and boys looked down on the display in amazement and with a little bit more faith in the prospect of winning against the approach of Isengard.  

Aragorn, followed closely by Théoden (properly dressed), bounded down the stairs in twos to greet the elvish army.

Haldir stepped out from the ranks.  'Greetings to you.  I bring word from…' but his words were cut off as Aragorn grabbed him in a fierce bear hug and swung him around in circles.

'You are most welcome here!' Aragorn grinned as the elf tried to regain his balance.

'Well, that was unorthodox…' Haldir steadied himself.  'Ah well, why bother with long winded speeches… we've come to get a piece of the action!  Wooo!  Let's kick some Orcish tail!'

The men and elves cheered together loudly, so loudly that they almost missed the distant sound of horns.

'That is no elf horn.' Legolas said narrowing his eyes.  His words were accompanied by an ominous rumble overhead.

Aragorn looked up at the gathering black.  'The storm has finally arrived.'

***

All was dark aside from the lights of Helms Deep.  There was no moon there were no stars.  Even they had fled, fearful of the oncoming carnage.  The low rumbles that came from the East were now being echoed in the West.  But with the Westward din also came little flecks of light.  First one.  Then ten.  Then hundreds.  Then tens of hundreds… of thousands!  The torches were carried by the orcs of Isengard, and they were terrifying to behold.  The young boys in armor made to stand with the men tried to be brave at the sight of the nightmare that came to meet them.  Horrid singing could be heard across the plain.  Low, fierce, relentless.  A battle song…

(KT SHY:  Did someone say "musical?"  Reader: No I… wait a minute… NOOOOOO!)

**ORCS** _(In a low marching base that persists quietly throughout the scene):_

Hum hum hum… riciti tikiti tikity dum… hum hum… riciti tikiti tik da-dum hum hum…

**ARAGORN _(Suiting up in the armory)_:**

Come Legolas ready your bow

It's time to go to war.

There's little hope in victory, 

But our trying will go down in lore.

Dark clouds assail us from the east

From westward come the villains.

My Andúril is ready to fight-

_(Accenting the phrase with a swing of his blade)_

Let's get to some blood spillin's!

**ÉOMER** _(Pops into the scene by throwing open a window)_

Here they come, oh me oh my

Whatever shall we do?

The women and children hide underneath 

But of fighters we have few.

The soldiers are prepared to fight

And I've cast off my fear.

Now I can only hope and pray

I don't end up like Boromir…

_Music stops._

**ÉOMER **_(Confuzed): What _was_ Boromir doing here anyway?_

_Pause._

_Music resumes but at slower tempo._

**ÉOWYN:**

Theeeese hands were built for fighting…

_(Handmaidens back her up: Ooooh la la la, la luuuuu)_

… Not for baking or turning wool.

These hands were built to quench my carnal rage…

(Handmaidens back off nervously.) 

Today I make a vow, 

To never hide away below, 

Agaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain!

(Song picks up in intensity.) 

_Scene switches to Elrond trying to pry Arwen's hands off of one of the palace columns _

**ELROND**: 

Hurry daughter; get to the boat, 

Take your hat and fancy coat, 

I have no time for youthful grief, 

Our parting words have to be brief.

**ARWEN**: 

I cannot go; I love him still…

**ELROND**: 

I'm your father, obey myyyy wiiiiiiiiiilllllllll!

**BILL THE PONY** _(Lost and alone in the wilderness and also surrounded by wolves): BIIILLLLLLLLLLLL!_

_Merry, Pippin and Sam crouch together as they wander through the __cave__ of _Torech__ Ungol___, Gimli walks nonchalantly behind them._

**MERRY, PIPPIN and SAM:**

Here we go around, around again,

Danger waiting 'round the next-a-bend,

Survive this day?  Who knows, but then again,

What's become of our friends so faaaaaaaaar awaaaaaaaaaaaaaay?

**SARUMAN  **_(__Accentuating and Overlapping):_

The world of men will fall…

**WORMTONGUE **_(Interrupting):_

HURRAY!

_Théoden stands atop the outer wall of Helms Deep, the wind is cold and it billows whipping his fur lined cape forward._

**THÉODEN** _(Hastily):_

I fear the breaching of this wall 

Will see my people's final fall, 

I can't allow this grievous fate, 

There's too much evil on my plate,

 It comes to us on blackened wings-

_(Thrusts out his sword and gives a mighty battle cry to rally the troops)_

FORWARD…….. Eorliiiiiiiiiiiiiing(a)s! 

_All parties now sing at once._

**ARAGORN**:  

They say I will be King someday

Yet I face another test.

It appears that if your name is Aragorn

You never get any rest.

But now it's time to truly prove

My valor, wit and teeth.

Better prove to Rivendell I was worth their keep

So Iiiiiii'llll help saaaaaaaaaaaave-

**ÉOWYN** _(Overlapping):_

As I sit amidst the crying babes

And try to comfort all

I realize where I belong

Is up there with the squall.

It's uncomfortable down here on the stones

And the roof has sprung a leak.

Today's the last I'll sit on my @$$

As theeeeeyyy proooteeeeeeeeeect-

**ORCS**_ (Overlapping):_

Hum hum hum… 

riciti tikiti tikity dum… 

hum hum… 

riciti tikiti tik 

da-dum hum 

hum…

We will dine upon red flesh 

When weeeee breeeeak dooooown-

**SARUMAN **_(Overlapping):_

I've planned so hard and planned so long

For this day to finally come.

My hopes to gain an easy rule

Will rise up with dawn.

To take this land, I extend my hand

And crown myself as Chief! 

The world of men will surely fall

When weeeee taaaaake dooooown-

**THÉODEN** _(Overlapping):_

I'll cut the enemy right and left

-Alas these days that they be mine-

To ensure that life in Edoras

Extends beyond my time.

My people will fight and die against

These beasts that crawl and creep.

To ride, to death, to glory be

As weeeeeeeee deeeeeeeeeeeefend-

**ARAGORN, ÉOWYN, ORCS, SARUMAN, ****THÉODEN:**

 HELMS DEEP! 

_Thunder crack.___

The ground was as black with Uruk Hai as the sky was with clouds. 

 Threatening.  

Rumbling.  

As one the Uruk Hai began to pound the base of their weapons into the ground and beat upon their chests, creating a fearful racket.  Men and elvin soldiers along the wall tensed, and then drew their bows at Aragorn's command, waiting… waiting…

_Oh boy,_ Aragorn thought to himself, _I was up all night practicing a huge heroic speech just for this moment… should I do it?  Should I say it now?  Alright here I…_

But at that moment some twitchy old farmer sneezed and let fly his arrow.  It struck one of the foremost Uruk Hai in the neck, killing it dead.  The other monsters ceased their intimidating pounding and stared for a minute at where their comrade had stood. Théoden turned around, 'Who the f— who the $#@% did that!?'__

And so it began.

The Uruks charged, screaming their rage, and at an order from Aragorn, Helms Deep rained out a shower of arrows. 

'Again!' 

Another volley.  

'Once more for good luck!' 

A third volley.

'Is this the best you can throw at us Saruman?' Théoden chuckled to himself.

Unnoticed by the king, a small perfect flake of snow descended from the sky, sat atop his shoulder plating a moment, then melted.    Indeed, no one seemed to be aware of the snow at all – brought all those miles by the dark clouds overhead – until it began to gain in intensity.  A few soft flakes gained in number and then the sky ripped open with icy pellets which launched down mercilessly upon the Uruks, yet for some reason left those within Helms Deep unscathed.  

The fighting Uruk Hai threw ladders against the wall, and climbed speedily, shrieking in anticipation.  But the rungs were quickly covered with ice which caused many of the climbers to slip and fall upon each other.

'The wind changes sporadically,' Legolas said to himself, ears listening to the howl, 'it is an unnatural storm…'

'Fire!  Fire!  Fire!' shouted Aragorn as volley after volley of arrows spit through the air.  This was going way better than could have ever been hoped, the Uruks couldn't climb the wall; they couldn't enter the Deep!  And as they slipped and slid on the quickly icing ground the elven archers made short work of anyone in range.  The Uruks still outnumbered them in crazy amounts, but while no man or elf had yet fallen, at least one hundred of the enemy had already met their demise.  Go people!

As if reading his thoughts the Uruk Hai retreated, regrouped, and then set their archers to task firing black arrows from their black bows.  Their aim was poor due to the hail streaming into their faces, but hundreds of arrows shot in one general direction were bound to strike something and so Aragorn shouted an order for everyone to drop down and hold up their shields.

_Thuck__ thud fwang sssshk!_

'Anyone dead?  No?  Good.  Fire at will!'

This carried on for a time.  The hail gradually changed back to snow and the red ground below became blanketed in a cleansing white.  Both sides had become increasingly lacking in the arrow department.  Aragorn turned to Théoden.  'My lord, the ice on the walls is melting and I fear the enemy will attempt to climb again.  We've become dangerously low on arrow supplies and can't drive them back from a distance anymore.'

'I see.  Then the men will have to fight sword in hand after all.  Gamling.'

'My lord?'

'Ready the men.'

'Yes my lord.'

'Well then, good Aragorn,' said Éomer striding up beside the Ranger, 'it is time at last for us to draw swords together!'

'Andúril!  Andúril for the Dúnedain!' Aragorn shouted with the blade in hand.

Éomer drew his sword in a blur of steel, 'Gúthwinë! Gúthwinë for the Mark!'

Aragorn paused and then snickered, '_Gúthwinë?  You named your sword Gúthwinë?'_

'Whatever you say "Andúril".' Éomer retorted in a mocking tone.

'Hey!  I didn't see _your sword cut the Ring from any evil being's finger.'_

'Well I –'

'Duck!' Legolas shoved the two men aside as a volley of darts rained upon where they had been standing.

'_Hannon le_…' said Aragorn, eyes wide.

'Yeah... what he said,' wheezed Éomer.

'No problem,' said the elf.        

Suddenly, the bestial voices of the Uruks could be heard, taunting.  'Throw down your king!' they jeered, 'We will fetch him from his hole, if he does not come.  Bring out your skulking king!'

Théoden crouched beside the two men and the elf, 'We're not gonna do that…. Right?'

Aragorn thought for a moment.  'Oh yes we are.'

Spotting movement from above the Uruks grew silent. Aragorn stood, legs apart and grinning ferociously.  'You want a king!?  I'll give you a king!'  And with a cry he lunged off the wall and cut down the foremost Uruk.  The others shrieked as he spun in an arc, detaching knee caps and slapping thighs.  However he was quickly overcome and dragged down to the cold ground.  Though his head was buried in snow, he clearly heard the battle cries of Legolas and Éomer.  The two leapt to his aid, Éomer powerfully swinging his sword and Legolas making quick work with his daggers.  

Up above Théoden looked down at the skirmish.  'Man, if only I had a really big rock.'

Gradually realizing that pitting thirteen (a bunch of brave soldiers had also jumped the wall to help) against thousands wasn't such a bright idea, Legolas, Aragorn, and Éomer mutually decided in favor of a tactical withdrawal.  They fanned out in small groups away from the scene of their fight, as the allies sent a hurdle of arrows down upon the Uruk's still there.  Aragorn ran alone, chopping at enemies, cutting at catapult strings, and diving through the snow for cover (it made great camouflage… it had gotten so deep).  He gradually found himself outside of the danger zone, and surveyed the area to see where he could be of most damage.  

Hearing a chuckle above and to the right, he looked up sharply to see a lone Uruk atop a high sloping hill, packing down an ice ball in one hand.  All together the Uruk-Hai at the bottom of the hill spread aside leaving a clear path for their comrade… Aragorn realized with a start what it was they were planning.

_Sweet merciful Mayar! _Aragorn's mind shouted, _he's gonna roll the snow ball into a "giant bolder of doom ball" and let it smash into the wall!_

Aragorn jumped out of the snow, revealing his position, but he didn't care.  He had one chance…

Using all the speed he could muster, he reached into the snow, pulled out a hunk of the stuff, patted it into a perfect ball, aimed, then threw it at the Uruk-Hai.

_Please…_

_THWACK!_

'YES!' His aim was true.  The Uruk had been efficiently capped.  Yet Aragorn noticed, with the horror of slow-motion capture, that as the Uruk fell, the ice ball was released from its hand, and began to roll down the hill gaining in size.

'NO!' Aragorn ran, trying to intercept it but he was too far away.  The ball rolled until it was the size of a large bolder.  Uruks on each side of the path cheered as it rolled past them, nearer and nearer to the wall of Helms Deep.

He winced, as with a loud _THUD the snow bolder ploughed into the wall… he waited.  Nothing.  The wall didn't break. Apparently the boulder wasn't big enough._

Aragorn sighed in relief.  Then with a large explosion the wall blew apart.

***

_Helms Deep interior – 15 minutes prior to the explosion_

'Load another volley!'

The sound of arrows ripped through the air followed by shrieks from the enemy outside.  Maintaining the effort it took to keep the Uruks from entering was wearing down on the men and elves.  Not to mention their already miniscule supply of arrows.  But Helms Deep was infamous for its ability to thwart all invasion attempts.  No one could enter the flawless design unbidden.  Helms Deep was impenetrable.

_Knock, knock_

'Aight… 'oos knockin' on th' door then?'  Ofisor Bobie, one of Rohan's finest, strode over to have a look.  Upon opening the door, he found himself facing an old apple woman.  She was tall, wrinkled, had a white beard, and was in fact Saruman… but this never donned on the soldier as anything out of the ordinary.

'Oh dear,' said Saruman in a sad attempt to sound like a feeble old British lady, 'I just came by to sell my mouthwateringly delicious candy-like apples, but it appears there's a bit of a skirmish going on outside.'

Ofisor nodded, 'Well, as you c'n see mum… there's a war going on.  Nasty business.'

'Ooh, makes my skin crawl!'

There was a brief awkward silence.  Then Saruman said…

'Fancy a mouthwateringly delicious candy-like apple?'

After thanking the old lady, (who wandered off with a '_Lovely battle base you have here, meeeh nuh aaaaaugh!' and then took off at a sprint) Ofisor munched into the apple and went to stand beside Gandalf who was issuing orders._

'… out of ammunition!?!?  Then throw livestock at them!  Whatever you've got!  The defenses have to hold, they haven't breached yet, nor do I intend for them to do so!' The wizard huffed as soldiers scrambled off in all directions to do his bidding.  As the fruit-munching soldier beside him turned to follow as well, Gandalf noticed a burning fuse attached to the apple.

 'Wait a moment!  That's no simple apple.  It's a bomb!  And I know only one person who can make apple bombs –'

**BOOM!!!!!!!**

'-… Saruman!'

***

Through the shower of rubble, the cheer of the Uruks could be heard loud and fearsome.  As one they all surged toward the gap in the wall.

'I need more arrows!' Legolas shouted at a soldier, watching helplessly as the screaming hordes rushed past.

'We're all out!' the man cried.

'Crap!' Legolas reached a hand deep into the snow and started rapid firing snowballs at the enemy as fast as he could.

Aragorn stumbled and swayed as he walked, his body in shock from being so near the roar of the explosion.  He blinked twice, trying to clear the fogginess from his eyes.  He heard his name called, but it sounded far away.  Then the ground jumped up to meet him.

He opened his eyes, and there she was.  His lady love, Arwen.  She smiled radiantly, strumming a lulling tune on a golden harp.  

'This… is a dream…' he said.

She tilted her head to the side, dark curls falling away to reveal a pale and slender neck, 'Then it is a good dream.'  

They were in the garden sanctuary of Rivendell.  Sunlight danced off the crystalline waters of a delicate bird-pool and reflected into Arwen's eyes.

Gods, he could be lost forever in those eyes.     

Pink peddled flowers fell from overhead, tossed down from baskets happily held by Frodo, Pippin and Gimli who were wearing angel wings and soaring around the ceiling.

_Okay… er…sure why not._

He smiled back up at Arwen who was sitting beside him now.

'And what shall wake the sleeping prince, asks I?' Her expensively flimsy dress slipped a bit, revealing her shoulder, 'Shall I give him a kiss?'

Arwen bent forward, a smile playing on her lips.  He tilted his face up to meet hers, but then she immediately changed tactics, lifted up his arm, and started gnawing savagely on it.

'Ow!  Err… Arwen, um that kind of hurts…gah!  Tch… okay that _really hurts, could you please stop…'_

Suddenly Arwen turned into a ferocious Uruk-Hai and Aragorn rightly assumed that he was no longer dreaming.

'YAAARGH!' he punched out hard, connecting fist to face, and sent the monster spinning.  

The Uruk-Hai, a bit put off that its mid-battle snack had come back to life, drew forth a battle axe and screamed in challenge at the man.  Aragorn went for his sword, but then realized with a start that he must have dropped it when he fell.  Looking desperately for a sword hole somewhere in the deep snow, he grimaced as the Uruk roared again, nearer this time.  But being knee deep in the snow made it difficult to maneuver, especially with a heavy weapon and armor, and this bought Aragorn the few precious seconds he needed to spot exactly where his sword had fallen.  The Uruk was upon him now, Aragorn threw a spray of snow into its face, dove as the creature swung angrily and blindly, scooped up his sword, and struck the Uruk's head clean off his shoulders.

'Fool,' he sighed, falling tiredly back onto the cold white powder, 'You should always let sleeping Dúnedains lie.' 

***

Saruman giggled to himself.  He made a habit to not giggle too often lest someone catch him at it… but he felt so durn good!  Munching on an apple, he watched his creations, his fighting Uruk- Hai, storm the wall.  Ah yes, The Battle for Helms Deep would be over in a matter of moments.  He thought it best to watch the festivities from a safer location, so he turned and began to head up one of the sloping hills.

'Saruman!  I have a right mind to put my boot up your ass!'  

Saruman turned at the voice and was shocked to see Gandalf sprinting towards him, kicking his thighs high to move quickly through the snow.

'AUGH!' Saruman ducked behind a pile of orc bodies to his right.  Gandalf tried to follow but whenever he ran around the pile Saruman kept running too, ensuring that the pile was always between them.'

'I can't understand why you would go and do such a thing!' Gandalf shouted at the ex-white Wizard, 'Siding with Sauron… what _were you smoking to cause such a deficiency in common sense!?  What of our missions as Istari!?'_

'Oh _you're _one to criticize me!' Saruman shouted back, throwing his apple at the other Wizard, 'Always going off on your own_ adventures, never sticking around in one place long enough to take care of YOUR Istari responsibilities.  Let me tell you, when you settle in one common location, those around you come to see you as a sort of spiritual figure, and people were ALWAYS calling on me to help them: "What's going to be the gender of my child?" "Will it rain today?" "Why am I so fat?" it gets so damn annoying!' _

'If THAT'S what's been ruffling your skirt then why don't you just leave!?'

 'Well what's the point in having a damn tower if you don't use it!?'

***

Men and elves shot desperately against the massing horde of Uruks who streamed through the gap in the wall like insects.  Rocks, pots, trash, they threw anything they could get their hands on down upon the massing monsters.  One of the Uruks pulled out a cross bow and shot at the group of soldiers above.  The arrow struck Haldir right through the chest plate.

The elf looked down at the bolt in shocked annoyance, and then fell over the side yelling, 'I wasn't even supposed to be here todaaaaaaaaaay!'

'Aragorn!  The enemy is swarming!  There's too many!  Pull our men back!' shouted Théoden urgently.

'Retreat!  Retreat!' shouted Aragorn.

Once everyone had retreated to the inner sanctum, the giant wooden doors were barred, and not a moment too soon.  The Uruk-Hai swelled against the hard wood, pounding and shrieking foul threats.  

An order was made, and soon a squad of orcs came carrying a large battering ram.  Within four minutes the door was splintered and shattered.  Suddenly a low earth trembling sound filled the air, causing many of the enemy to clutch at their ears.  The horn of Helm rang out deafening across the plane.  Two of the forefront Uruks, unaffected by the noise, ripped the doors open, only to be ridden down by a horde of riders!

'To me!  To me!  Forth Eorlingas!'  Theoden charged out on a horse of bright white majesty, brandishing his sword and a golden shield.  Aragorn rode at his right hand, Éomer (still running) on his left, both shouting, 'To the king!'  

Behind them rode a host of Rohirrim warriors, everyone crying, 'Helm!  Helm!  Helm is arisen and comes back to war!  Helm for Théoden King!'

***

'Spoon!'

'Fork!'

'Spoon!'

'Fork!'

'Spoon!'

'Fork!'

'Confound it Saruman, how are you supposed to get at the broth at the bottom of the bowl with a fork!?' shouted Gandalf hurling another snowball.

'You tip the bowl and drink it.  What are you, a man or a wizard?!' Sarman yelled back, heaving his own snowy assault.

But Gandalf wasn't paying attention anymore.  His gaze was directed over Saruman's shoulder.  'Oh good, right on time.'

Saruman slowly shifted his gaze to follow where Gandalf was looking.  'YEEK!'

Where before had only been a snowy stretch of land now stood rows upon rows of trees, blocking the route from which the Uruks had come.  No… they weren't standing… they were marching!  The trees were marching!  A flash back sequence suddenly and painfully slammed to the forefront of Saruman's mind.

He'd been sitting in an Easterling take out restaurant… alone as usual.  His tummy hadn't agreed with that nights Oliphant special, but the tequila shots were damn good.  As customary with the end of such meals, the waitress brought him a fortune coconut, which he opened with a subtle tap of his staff, 'Crack.'

The fortune, a greasy piece of parchment fell out, and he read it out of habit:

_"Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:  Saruman shall never vanquished be, until Great Fangorn wood to high Rohirrim hill shall come against him."  _

Saruman just rolled his eyes, 'Well of course it'll come true, they're always so vaguely generic!'

End flashback.

Cornered on one side by the charging Rohan cavalry, the Uruks decided it best to make a strategic run-away.

'Look, there's a conveniently placed forest!' shouted one of the Uruk-Hai, 'Everyone, regroup in the trees!  Then we'll give these men a taste of death!'

They ran in snarling droves under the shadow of the trees, unheeding the desperate shouts of Saruman.

The horses, unable to follow halted at the borders of the forest, spear men looking slightly disappointed.  From somewhere in the heart of the mass of trees, a voice older than stone spoke, 'If a tree squashes an orc in the middle of the forest and there's no one around to hear, does it make a sound?'

'GYAAAHAAAARRR!' came an inhuman shriek.

'…guess so.'

'AHAHHAHAHA!' laughed Aragorn, 'Tree humor I get it, that's classic!  I guess the _oaks on them!'_

'I don't get it.' said Éomer.

'Well aren't you an old _sap_!'

The men started to chuckle… partly from the bad jokes, partly because it had just started to dawn on them that they had won.  Théoden looked like he was about to pass out and topple off his horse from pure euphoria.

'No, no, that joke just stumps me.' Éomer was still clueless. 

'AHAHAHHAHHAHAHHA!' roared the soldiers.

'Guess it's time to turn over a new _leaf!' Aragorn was on a roll.  'Come on men, after this I'll buy you a round of __root beer!'_

Saruman stood in shock, his demonic legions gone forever in the blink of an eye.  Gandalf took advantage of this momentary distraction to run around the pile of bodies and snatch up Saruman's staff of office.  Gandalf held the ebony wizard staff in both hands, lifted it high over his head…

'NO!' cried Saruman

… and then brought it crashing down hard over his thigh, splitting the staff in two.

'Begon Saruman.  You have no power here.'****

Utterly defeated, Saruman turned to leave in disgrace.  Gandalf watched in silence as the old and dejected figure stumbled up the snowy hill… then he took a few quick steps and kicked the many-coloured Wizard's backside for good measure.

Happy in the way things had turned out, Gandalf wandered down the hill to join Aragorn and the riders… and to give a proper _thank you to the Ents and trees for their help.  He heard Aragorn and Éomer conversing._

'…now that the war is over we can reinstate our old _mahogany system of marriage!'_

'Okay, stop.' Éomer couldn't take much more.

'Yeah, I'm _pining_ for these jokes to end too!'

'Please, stop.'

'Well now that we've dealt with the _root of the problem-'_

'It never ends!!!!'

'- It's time to ride out and welcome the dawn!' and as he spoke, a bright flash of light streamed down through the clouds, spotlighting him like a diva.

'That man,' said Gandalf to himself, 'truly has the makings of a King.'

And thus the battle of Helms Deep came to an end with small loss of _men_... (well, except for that apple incident… but he survive anyway)… the enemy however paid a heavy price, and the battle would be forever remembered as the second most humiliating defeat ever seen by evil in Middle Earth.

Aragorn, Gandalf, Théoden, Éomer and Legolas rode out to greet the glorious sunrise as it spilled its rays across the field, melting the unnaturally cast snow.

'Well!' chuckled Gandalf quietly to Aragorn, 'it looks like Sauron has underestimated our dear mister Baggins!'

It took a minute for Aragorn to register what Gandalf had said, mistaking it for unimportant babbling, 'What?' he leaned closer so as not to alert the attentions of the two Rohirrim lords, 'you mean to say that it was _Frodo_ in Sauron's body that sent the hail storm? It wasn't simply some happy chance that fell our way? Wait, wait, wait…Frodo's managed to _tap into the almighty powers of the greatest evil of our time?!  Mr. Baggin's Junior?  Fuzzy foot watery eyed Fro-boy!?  Surely you jest!'_

 Expecting little more than a mumbled reply, Aragorn was surprised to actually be given a straight answer.  'Yes, the Dark Lord must have thought it impossible as well or he would not have attempted to use the _forbidden arts.  Sauron is not so mighty that he is above stupid reasoning.  I assume that he was counting on retaining at least most of his powers when he made __the switch.  Not so.  He must be desperate now.  We have to march onwards to Mordor's borders and make sure he doesn't cross back to his Dark Tower - most likely with the Ring still in his possession.  All our hope rests in the one chance that he hasn't yet done so.  Come.' he turned, his eyes upon the giant cloud of smoke dominating the East as Mount Doom fought against the dieing snow and hail spreading out of Barad-dûr.  'We have much to prepare.' _

This last bit he said loudly and Théoden, Legolas and Éomer sat up straight in their saddles, ready to face whatever evil tomorrow had in store.

'The battle of Helms Deep is over,' said the Wizard weightily, 'the battle for Middle Earth has jus…'

He was cut off by the sound of kazoo coming from below.  As one they all looked down at the bottom of the hill to see three riders hastily approaching and bedecked in marvelous armor, with their banners flaring, and their swords drawn.

'Sweet lord, no!' muttered Aragorn, recognizing the banner instantly.

'Aaaaaaaaaragoooorn!  I decided to staaaaaaay!  I've come to fiiiiiight! _Tangado__ haid! Leithio i philinn!' cried Arwen Evenstar, holding her sword high in the air.  The other two riders flanked her on each side.  On closer inspection Aragorn recognized her brothers, Elladan holding the banner and Elrohir blowing insanely on the kazoo._

Aragorn jumped off his horse to catch Arwen as she leapt from hers and the two began to indulge in some unneeded displays of public affection.  Sickened, Legolas turned his attention to her brothers.

'_Why_ are you guys here!?' 

'Oh well, you know, gotta watch our fer lil' sis!' said Elladin cheerfully, then in an undertone whilst making circular gestures at his temple, 'she's a bit nutty.'

'Chya.' agreed Elrohir.

The other just stared at them stunned, until peering over their shoulders Elladin got a good look at Helms Deep.  'Woah, dude, you had quite a battle here!'

'Chya!' said Elrohir in amazement, 'like, it looks like you fought twenty or thirty guys or somethin'.'

'Oh,' said Gandalf airily, 'More like twenty or thirty _THOUSAND!!!!!!!'_

'………………. righteous.' they said simultaneously.

_***_

_Meanwhilst__…_

 'No no no!  Not the catapults!' cried Wormtongue chasing after a particularly destructive Ent.  Things hadn't been going so well on his side of the _you__-go-to-Helms-Deep-master-and-I'll-hold-down-the-fort-back-here plan.  The trees had up and decided to become violent protestors at the most inopportune time and as always, it was the minions who suffered._

'Oh, Saruman's going to kill me!  Gone for one day and everything's gone to hell!  Hey… Hey!  Put down that scaffolding!  No.  No!  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'

KT SHY:  Done dammit!  Whew, for some reason I had some trouble with this chapter… but once I got back into it everything flowed together like a neat little package.  I know you guys might be a little… um… cross at me for taking so long but… come on, the end justifies the means right?  Right?  Sniffle, you aren't gonna sign my review section are you… *choke* …

OH!  Another note, feel free to check out my web site!  It's not writing, its drawrings but I hope to some day get an illustrated Eye on the Prize up… I think that'd be lovely!

www.flatface.net/~stencil

Unfortunately it's not exactly working as we speak (September 15, 2003) but I'm sure if you're bored in a week or two and want to take a peek at a web page, it'll be up by then!

Thanks so much for reading!  I'll be back soon! ^________________^


	12. The Eye is ever Boxful

KT SHY: I'm sure writing a second chapter within the span of a week'll help you guys forgive my previous procrastinations… right?.... um… right?  (sob).  Anyways, much thanks to _Ritsuka (Wow, thanks for the flattering proposal!  Expect my confused yet highly... um… flattered response soon!) and _giveGodtheglory_ (don't worry, it takes a lot to insult me! Ha ha!  I'll trrrryyyy not to craze up Arwen too much… just fer you!)  These two reviewed within a day of my posting!  It gladdens my heart to know I haven't driven off _all_ my readers!_

Disclaimed and Dedicated as always, to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Eye on the Prize

_Act XII: The Eye is ever Boxful_

 '…uUUUUUR-phf-tchgrrraaAAAAAUGH!!!!!!!!!!' ****

'For god sake fellow, lift with the _legs, not the back, the __legs!' Gandalf said to Théoden, who was steadily on his way to Hernia-ville due to his shoveling attempts._

'… it's my Keep, (gahrrrnnn) Gandalf, and as it's high ranking official keeper (wheeeeeeeze) it's as much my duty to help clear this snow as any other… oh I can't take this anymore, here Éomer, cover for me.'

'What!?' blurted the young man.

'Dooooooooooooo iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.' The King gave him his evilest eye.

_Kaflump___

Aragorn wiped at his brow, the excursion of shoveling away all the snow helped warm up muscles which had become stiff after the previous night's We-just-saved-the-frickin'-day celebration.  Looking down at the fine white substance now… he couldn't help but dwell upon its origins.  Something seriously wrong was going on… but that wasn't anything new these days.   Gandalf had told him many days back, before they'd arrived in Edoras, about how Sauron had used his dark power to steal Frodo's appearance.  Aragorn had come to terms with that… it explained quite a bit now that he thought about it…back during the _Fellowship_ days.  That Frodo had somehow been able to control the mighty power of the Dark Lord, made a certain kind of sense as well… although Aragorn got brain freeze every time he thought about it too much.  

_Best to just accept it as fact and move on_, he thought.

But something else was nagging at the back of his mind as well… something crucial.

A loud _screeeeeeeeechcut into the Ranger's contemplative mind set, and he looked up to see a rickety hay wagon pull up just outside of Helms Deep._

'A'ight buddy?  Here's the stop you requested, take care now.' said the driver, a hefty bearded man wearing an offensive plaid shirt and straw hat.

A figure hopped off the back of the cart, straw tangled in his mane, and a sad, lost kind of look in his big brown eyes.

Éomer recognized the character immediately, 'FIREFOOT!!!!!!'

The horse jumped upon hearing his name, turned, spotted his master, then whinnied pathetically as the two rushed to embrace each other amidst much sobbing (Éomer) and slobbering (the horse).

'Well that makes_ two_ happy reunions,' muttered Aragorn.

'There, you see Aragorn?' said a teary eyed Éomer covered in equine drool, 'you don't owe me a new horse after all!'

'Erk!' erked Aragorn, 'I'd kinda hoped you'd forgotten about that.'

'A Rohirrim forget his horse?  Never!  Isn't that right Firefoot?'

In response, the horse leapt into the man's arms, blinking huge brown eyes happily, and Éomer carried Firefoot all the way home.

'Hey!  Get back here and shovel this damn snow you lazy dependant!' bellowed Théoden.

Aragorn chuckled.  Then, feeling a presence at his shoulder, he looked over to see a big nose and fuzzy white beard obscuring his vision.

'AAAUGH!  KILL IT!'

'It's ME you dolt!' growled Gandalf.  Then softening his tone he added, 'It looked like something was troubling you…'

Aragorn struck his shovel deep into the snow, then rested his right arm over it wearily.  Behind them, Legolas was having a cow of a time trying to shovel.  Being an elf he couldn't help standing on top of the snow… this of course meant he had to bend over painfully to get at any significant amounts of the stuff.  He cursed genetics.

'Gandalf,' Aragorn began, eyes staring off into the horizon, 'They do need Frodo alive in Mordor… don't they?  They wouldn't…'

'Ah.' Gandalf leaned heavily of his staff, 'No, they won't _kill him if that's what you fear.  I'm not even sure it's possible.  They are definitely aware of his meddling though, I'm not so optimistic as to be able to believe otherwise.  No, they won't kill him for his troubles.  But there are ways Aragorn… so many ways to make someone suffer without harming them physically… it terrifies me to think of the price he may now be paying at the hands of his captors… for saving us at Helms Deep.' _

Gandalf looked genuinely afraid, and it made Aragorn feel cold inside to see such a thing.  It was wrong.  So wrong.  To think of all the terror, fear and hopelessness that the kind hearted hobbit must have suffered all that time within Mordor's borders… and now it was sure to double… just thinking of it broke Aragorn's heart.

He remembered how they first met:

Back in the _Prancing Pony_, Aragorn, hood pulled low over his eyes, beckoned the frail hobbit to come towards him, 'Your friends seem to be saying too much where unpleasant ears are apt to eavesdrop mister _Underhill_, you had better do something quick!'

Frodo nodded at the stranger, swallowed, then leapt onto the nearest table and said aloud, 'I am now putting on the Ring!'

'Shutupshutupshutupshutup!'

Way to pick 'em… why was Aragorn always sent to save the _smart ones_?  But the little thing had been so naïve, it was only natural that he'd want to protect him.  And what a fine job he'd done of it, first letting his charge get stabbed and thus cursed for all time, and now spirited away by dark sorcery into the very heart of Mordor.  Bravo Aragorn, bravo.  He hadn't done a good enough job… not where it really counted.

Aragorn sent a silent prayer to all those who'd gone before him, that they protect Frodo where he could not, keep the hobbit safe even in the very heart of evil where he was held.

***

_Barad-dûr_

'NO NO NO NO NO!' Frodo wailed in desperation but the Witch-King continued what he was doing, ripping down every ornament in sight, and smashing every object of rustic comfort.  All Frodo's careful and clever redecoration efforts were being destroyed before his very eyes… er… his one giant flaming eye.

'NONONONONO!' he started to bat himself against the Nazgûl leader who had began tearing up the finely polished cherry wood floor paneling, leaving nothing but cold heartless stone underneath.

The Witch-King rounded on him then, furious, and Frodo leapt back as he was confronted by the same terrifying creature that had impaled him with a Morgul blade all those months ago.  Frodo squirshed himself into a corner as the Witch-King advanced menacingly. 

'Listen here you insignificant little puff of life.  I have had to deal with your-' (Frodo gasped at the vulgar curse) '- for long enough!  I put up with you before because you kept out of the way of things, but well…' there was a cold laugh, '… I really can't attempt to ignore you now after the-' (Frodo: gasp!) '- you pulled at Helms Deep!  I don't know _how you managed to tap into the Master's powers… but I'm going to make damn sure it's a one time offence.'_

He hoisted up a large metal crate covered in runes, then pulled a long pool lasso out from one of his sleeves and extended it towards the quaking hobbit eyeball thing.

'You will stay in the darkest dungeon at the bottom of our keep until the Master returns.  Sauron will know what to do with you.'

All throughout Mordor a miserable cry broke out, shocking everyone who dwelt there.  Then it ceased just as abruptly.  Hours later the Witch-King could be seen strolling out of the Dark Tower, putting large garbage bags full of western comforts onto the curb for Tuesday pickup. 

He was in control again.  Fantastic!  He walked with a little bounce in his step confident that all was again right with the world until he ran into two orcs dressed in hobbit attire.

'Get rid of those clothes now.' he ordered flatly.

'But my lord, they're really comfortable…' one of the orcs began.

 'THIS IS A FORTRESS OF EVIL NOT A NANCY LITTLE TEA HOUSE!' the Witch-King shrieked, fury once again at full par.  'Now put on some freakin' loincloths and UNCOMFORATBLE armor and go roll around in the beast stables a couple times!'  

The orcs gave a sad little 'Yessir.' and walk away dejectedly. 

'AND TAKE OFF THOSE @!#%$!* CURLY WIGS!!!!!'

KT SHY: Hopefully that holds you over for a time!  I finished Act 11 on Monday and now here's Act 12!  It'll be a while before I touch the next chapter (even though it's waaaay better planned out than 11 was before I went at it) because… eh… I NEED TO FOCUS ON SCHOOL!  Animation ain't exactly a bird course if you catch mah drift.  And I want to finish off my fan-comics so I can start on an original project (GASP!  Original!  Me!?)

At any rate _Act XIII: Merry the Resourceful_ will shift focus back to the Small Troop and their adventures in _Torech__ Ungol_!!!!  Hopefully you've missed them and their pint sized antics!

Ciao for now my dearies.  Be good.


	13. Merry the Resourceful

Summary - Act 13: Merry the Resourceful:  With the Ring in Sauron's possession, the hobbits lost in Shelob's lair and the battle for Middle Earth slowly reaching its epic conclusion, Legolas finds it an opportune time to drop his pants. Read now!

KT SHY: Today's chapter is brought to you by the head of WETA digital, Mr. Richard Taylor!!!!!!!! 

 Richard Taylor (in his usual shouting monotone):  I'M SORRY TO INFORM YOU THAT THERE WILL BE NO DROPPING OF PANTS IN THIS CHAPTER.  BUT THERE WILL BE BIGATURES!  WHY, I REMEMBER THE OTHER DAY ON THE SET MY WIFE SAID TO ME, "ARE YOU FINISHED ON THE MINIATURES?" AND I SAID "WOMAN, THEY'RE CALLED BIGATURES!" AND SHE SAID "DON'T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME!" AND I SAID, "I LIKE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH SO THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO THREATEN ME!" 

KT SHY: All right Richard!  Keep up the good work! (pleasepleasepleasegivemeajobatWETApleeeeaaaaaaseIgotoSheridanforanimationandeverything!) Before we kick off this - yet again - highly overdue next chapter, I'd like to thank all the reviewers: 

_Fernie ~ _Well, here you go!  The Small Troop's making its long overdue appearance!  So there's no need to burn off… my… eyebrows… and pull off my… eye lashes……………….. (shudder).

 _Pistachio Torte ~ _Here's more!  Shocking, isn't it… eh heh.

_YunSUKS Chunsah ~ _I_ know, I know, I'm so incorrigible when it comes to updating!  No takers at Type V, eh?  Well I guess that means we have to approach it "Wag-the-Dog" stylez… go propaganda!  Oh… and chips… bring lots of chips._

_Slinker/Stinker~_ Ah yes, the snowball: Simple and elegant in its destructive capabilities.  And if you think Wormtongue's having a bad enough time defending Orthanc from the ents, imagine how much worse it'll be for him when Saruman comes back!  As for Sauron, we'll be seeing the little trouble maker in the chapter after this one… so no explody.

_Miyako Inoue, Queen of Cheese~_ Hey, glad to see you back!  You are soooo sweet to review all my chapters!  Also, good job catching onto my _Clerks_ reference!  Expect more _Kevin Smith tributes to pop up here and there… especially since Shagster see's him as "GOD"._

_Tylec Asroc~_ Seriously!  When Saruman's making the bomb doesn't it remind you of cereal?  Ooh, I cannot WAIT until the third film comes out, and I'm sure it will provide oodles of inspiration and material.  I thought that perhaps I should wait to watch it before I started this chapter (since we'll be meeting Shelob) but then I figured I'd stay true to the way I pictured things in the book… except with a ridiculously quirky spin.  Thank you so much for the kind review… I'm still grinning! 

And as always, huge kudos goes to Shagster, without whom I'm sure this fic wouldn't even be half as humorous.

Shagster: You know… what I find is the most common misconception in Fantasy stories is the portrayal AAAAAUGH!  BIG FREEKIN' SPIDER, UGGGHHHHHHHhhhhhhh ~ *

KT SHY: Read on!   Fo' sho'!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eye on the Prize

_Act XIII: Merry the Resourceful_

_Elsewhere, during the battle for Helms Deep…_

'…_S_am, _Pippin _a_nd __Merry.  Hmm… you know, if you take only the first letter of those four words you get "_spam_", which is funny because spam is a kind of food…'_

'For the last time Gimli, hobbits aren't edible.' Merry lied.

'Aww… you sure?'

'Positive.'

The three hobbits and one dwarf walked slowly and unsteadily through the blackness of the cave.  Having been unanimously elevated to leader of the Small Troop, Merry took up the front of the column; Pippin and Sam huddled close behind while Gimli stayed at the rear watching out for anything dangerous/delicious that might sneak up from the back… ambling up from the numerous other pathways.  The cave was disgustingly labyrinth like (but as long as it came devoid of handsome stretch-pants wearing Goblin Kings with a taste for Eighties music, they saw no reason to complain.) 

'GLAUGH!'

'Mister Pippin!  You nearly gave me a heart attack, make no mistake!' came Sam's voice in the dark.

'Sorry Sam… but I just walked into another patch of spider webs, Ugh!  Glaugh!'

'Can't be spider webs,' said Merry, 'Too big.'

They carried on in silence again for a time, only broken here and there by the loud growls of empty stomachs.  The image of his big guts eating his little guts entered Merry's mind, but he shoved it aside just as abruptly.  The group had (for whatever reason beyond his understanding) put their faith in _him_ getting them out of the tunnel… and so that's what he would focus on.  Not the hollow squelching pain of his own rumbly tumbly.  

Merry lifted his head up from time to time, sniffing at the foul air.  Whenever a cooler less rank wind carried, he changed direction and headed that way.

_'If in doubt Meriadoc, always follow your nose.'_

Who had said that?  Ah yes, Gandalf.  Merry remembered the wizard's words to him back in the dark of Moria… how appropriate that he was able to make use of them now.  

On and on they walked, unsure of whether any progress was being made, and all the while aware of a small tingling sensation in the backs of their minds… a dark sensation… as if something primal and utterly bestial were watching them.  Watching and waiting.  Wondering when time would be opportune to strike.

'Gimli, for Eru's sake, I promise you hobbits are poisonous so stop leering!'  

'What?' Gimli sounded genuinely hurt, 'It wasn't me that time, I swear!  I was peerin' off into the _back_ passage…'

'Well if it wasn't you then who was it?' No sooner had the retort left Merry's mouth, then a low growl echoed off the walls around them.  

'That didn't sound like none of our stomachs…' said Sam in a small voice.

Merry felt it.  The cold growth of fear starting at the base of his spine, spreading upward in an attempt to stifle him completely.  The guttural ricochet sounded again.

'Run.' he whispered.

'And how are we to do that?' Gimli said in a voice that was much too loud, 'we've naught to see but this blasted darkness!'

'Well then creep quickly!'

Growing panic drove at Merry pushing his steps faster and faster.  It wasn't until he heard his cousin's distant shout that he realized how much farther ahead he'd gotten.

'Merry!  I can't hear your walking, where are you?' the quaver in Pippin's usually cheery voice nearly broke Merry's heart.  He turned around ready to start back, when something caught his eye.  A faint glow coming from back down the tunnel.  As he came nearer to his companions, Merry realized that _they_ were the source of the tiny phosphorescent light, or more accurately…

'It's coming from Mister Pippin's pants!' exclaimed Sam.

'Now what in the…'

'No, he's right!' said Merry, 'Pip it's your belt, the belt that the Lady of the Wood gave you!'

The reference to Galadriel was enough to send Gimli into a light-headed stupor as Merry and Pippin fumbled with the clasps on the latter's belt to get a closer look.  Merry held it up and was delighted at the dim sight of Sam and Pippin's face peering at him from out of the cumbersome blackness.

'Hello Sam, hello Pip!' he grinned, 'I'd almost forgotten what you looked like; we've been down here too long!'

'Not the most pleasant sight, I'd expect,' Sam wiped the back of his hand across a dirty cheek.

'Why is it glowing though?' Pippin reached out a hand attempting to snatch back the belt… after all it was all that was keeping him from a pants-less doom.

'I expect it's some sort of Elven magic… like Frodo's sword, _Sting_!'  Merry handed the belt back to his younger cousin, not failing to notice the sad look in Sam's eyes at the mention of Frodo.  'Remember how it glowed blue whenever enemies drew near?'

As if in agreement with him, the growl that had daunted them earlier rang out fiercely, causing trickles of dirt to fall from the tunnel roof and onto four stunned heads.

'Now… about that running…' began Pippin.

By the light of the magic belt Pippin wore they ran on through the tunnel, the blue light growing brighter every minute – which was good in that it helped them see their surroundings, but bad in that the brighter the light the closer whatever foul thing was following them.Suddenly the narrow tunnels gave way to the large expanse of a cavern, the roof of which went up so high that all they could see was the shadowy darkness of it. It was here that they were struck by an overwhelming sense of malice directed squarely at them.  The pungent reek of the place seemed to find its apex in that very cavern and as the _Small Troop,_ under a hazy spell of sickness, took in their surroundings they saw that hundreds of smaller tunnels were carved into the rocky walls.  Bones littered the ground amidst orcish armor and fallen swords.  Upon closer inspection, they found the reason for the darkness above was because thick strands of black webbing funneled upward to obscure the top of the cavern from view.  In their attempt to escape whatever matter of beast had been pursuing them, they had wandered right into its lair.

'We've got to get out of here…' Sam stated the obvious as he held onto his stomach, forcing himself not to gag at the stench that surrounded them.  He scanned the multitude of tunnels fearing that their mysterious aggressor could burst from any one of them.  The _one_ who dwelt in Torech Ungol had many openings for which to snatch her prey, not all of them known to outsiders.   Then he saw something.  Sam had to blink twice to be sure, but it was gone upon the second.  For an instant it was as if he'd seen the ghost of a possibility that never was… from the corner of his eye he thought he'd seen Frodo and himself walking hand in hand out from one of the other tunnels.  But it was gone.

'Look, something's moving…'  At Pippin's observation, they all looked upward to see that there indeed was something moving within the dark grey webbing above.  Then, it emerged, hanging by a black thread.  They all stared in horror at the massive shape descending from on high, spinning slowly as it came.  A disturbingly giant spider. 

Pippin opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and said, '……………………Well maybe it's not as big as all that, maybe it's a _perspective thing!'_

'No Pip…perspective works the other way around,' said Merry backing up.

The three hobbits rushed behind the business end of Gimli.  With an axe wielding maniac on your team you should tend to fear all else less and less, but………

 The Dwarf peered quizzically over his shoulder at them.  'How can you be scared of spiders?  The wee things are more afraid of us then we are of them.'

Merry gave the Dwarf a level stare, looked at the gigantic descending blob, and then looked back meaningfully.

'Oh, alright.'

The monstrous spider drew nearer, dangerous looking legs spreading outward to reveal a gargantuan body.  The slow yet deadly progress was hypnotic, and the hobbits stood paralyzed while Gimli strummed nervous fingers across the handle of his axe.  For a moment all time seemed to come to a shuddering halt.  Then the web above the spider snapped and it landed with an ungraceful thud upon its back.  As it flailed about to upright itself, a guttural voice emitted from its spidery-beak-mouth-thing, 'BUR, BUR, BUR, HOBBITS!'

 Then remembering the importance of presentation, Shelob (for that was the name of the jygumbous arachnid) regained her composure.... she'd once seen Galadriel do her shtick (from afar) and knew it was essential to keep up appearances: 

'Welcome small travelers to my lair.  I am the mistress of this darkness and am known as Shelob.  Shelob of _Torech__ Ungol_.'

Despite the genteel words, the hobbits started running around in panicky circles.

'BIG GIANT SPIDER!' Pippin screamed.

'AUUUUUUUUGH!' the three hobbits continued their aimless flight.

'WITH EIGHT LEGS!'

'GYAAAAAAAAAAGH!'

'I know what you spiders are about!' said Sam, 'You best stay outta my popcorn!'

'I think that's the least of our worries Sam.' Merry muttered in passing.

'Please don't eat us!' Sam readdressed Shelob, 'have some tatters instead!' And with that he pulled out a pan layered with golden crispy tatters.  

Pippin's jaw dropped, 'You've had those all along and STILL you fed us _ROCKS_!?'

'I was savin' em for Mister Frodo for when we find him…' Sam began sadly.

'No Samwise,' Shelob addressed the hobbit, 'You're so called _"tatters" would not sustain me.'_

Stunned silence.

'Wait a moment, how do you know his name?' Merry interjected, and then turned to Sam, 'How long have you two been in cahoots?'

'We haven't!' defended Sam, 'and I haven't the faintest know-how how she knows my name neither!'

Shelob's voice had a musing quality to it. 'Oh a little bird told me THEN I ATE IT, BUR BUR BUR! …………………………I apologize. Sometimes it's easy to forget social graces.  After all I've been alone for such a very long time and I'm so very hungry…'

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!' cried the hobbits as they once again started running around in circles.

'But in all honesty I only know your names because I've been tracking you ever since you entered here…' 

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!'

'Alright, I won't beat around the bush with it; I _am_ going to eat you.  But, if you think about it, you'll all die someday, so why not get the suspense over with and come here to me,' one long spindly leg gestured as she spoke.  'I'm so very famished, I've naught to eat but careless orcs, and you can just _imagine how badly those boys taste!'_

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!'

Okay, so the sympathetic approach didn't work.  She decided to go the flattery-route.

'Calm yourselves, please!  After all, you four fine gentlemen are about to receive the highest honor of all!' They stopped running and looked up at her curiously.  Shelob turned her mighty eyes upon Merry.  

_((KT SHY: As she speaks, "The Carnival of the Animals" – standard graduation music – plays quietly in the background.))_

'Should I eat the wisest?  The most courageous?  The one who leads the team without fail and calls upon all his resources to overcome every obstacle without fail?' she asked sweetly.  Feeling rather good about himself because of the compliments, Merry grinned and snapped his suspenders.

'Or should I eat the strongest… Gimli, the heroic muscle of the group, who never shirks from any challenge and brings his entire Dwarvin might to call without the slightest hesitation…'  At this Gimli nodded in approval.

'Samwise,' she went on, 'the group's heart, who would never choose to leave a friend.  Who'd rather listen to what his heart tells him rather than cold logic…'  Sam blushed at this.

'Or Pippin…………………………………. the shrimp.'

'Oh, that's nice.' Pippin retorted. 

For the most part the Small Troop - egos stroked to the maximum - stood around nodding, grinning and feeling quite good about themselves.

If it were anatomically possible for Shelob to smile she would have.  _Yup, she thought, _still got it!  _Then a low rumble originating from her abdomen broke through her reverie.  Lordy, was she __starving!  _

'Ah screw it, I'll just eat all of you at once!' and with a hiss Shelob crouched down, pincers salivating, ready to spring!

'Whatdowedowhatdowedowhatdowedo!?!?!?' Merry panicked.

'YOU'RE the "_resourceful one_" think of something!' cried Pippin.

'I only kindly agreed, I never said I was!'

Shelob leapt, but they were all able to successfully dodge as she landed with a loud crunching of cavern floor.  

'Weeeee'ree doooooomed!' Pippin wailed.

Merry's eyes narrowed.  'Pippin, how many blow darts do you have?'

'Huh?'

Shelob turned around, ready to leap again.

'Pippin!' Merry shouted, louder this time.

'Uh… six!'

Merry held out his hand, and Pippin forked over the blow darts.  Merry crouched quickly down onto the ground and from out of his coat pockets pulled out a string, some paper clips, a box of baking soda, a plastic tube and some vinegar.  He reached over, snatched up one of Gimli's throwing axes, and set to work putting everything together.

'Hurry Merry!' Pippin whimpered as Shelob began to charge.

Then Merry stood up, make-shift contraption at the ready.  

'This is what you get for messing with Merry the Resourceful!!!!!!'  He yanked the paper clip which was attached to the string, and with a BANG his _rocket-axe_ launched itself off the ground and up into Shelob's _eyeeeeeeeee!_

'GAAAAAH!'

'SWEET bloody MERCY!"

"Ahhhhhhhgh!'

'Grossss, ahhhH!'

Shelob screamed, 'IT'S ALWAYS THE BLOODY EYE ISN'T IT!?  What is WITH you fantasy types and always hitting people in the FREAKIN' _EYE!?!?!?!?!?!?!?'_

She hissed, liquid oozing down from the wound and bubbling upon the cave floor.  Gimli and the hobbits used this opportunity to start running, swerving around the shuddering bulk of the great spider and down through the cave.  After only a minute of running they heard the echo of her voice from somewhere behind.  

_'But don't worry… I got plenty more!'_

'There's a light up ahead!' Merry shouted, barely audible over the thundering of eight hairy legs coming up from behind.  'We've found an exit!'

'Hurry hobbits,' Gimli shouted, 'Once we're clear off these narrow walls there'll be more space to make our stand!' His gauntleted hand trembled with anticipation around the heavy axe.  

_I do believe he's enjoying this_, Sam thought to himself.

But upon reaching the exit, they were dismayed to find it was blocked by a monstrous spider web!  As the pounding of legs from behind grew louder, Gimli spun around and whipped his last throwing axe back into the darkness.  _FWACK!  _Shelob's shriek rang out again, loud and frustrated.  But her pursuit was halted for the moment.

'That'll buy us some time,' Sam cheered.  

'Hurry!' cried Merry, 'Help me cut this blasted web!'

The three hobbits began sawing at it with their swords, but to no avail.  The webbing was too thick.

'Stand back!' shouted Gimli, and they turned just in time to see him mid air, battle-axe mid swing, bearing down upon them.

'AUUUGH!' After screaming in unison, the hobbits dove to the side as all the might of Gimli slammed into the web… further… further……….. further still…then with a grunt Gimli was thrown backwards into the dark as the web sprung back into place; without so much as a nick upon it.  Merry, Sam and Pippin kept their eyes on the last spot they had seen the Dwarf before he was swallowed by the blackness.  The sounds of a scuffle erupted followed by an angry, 'BUR BUR BUR!' and then Gimli came tearing back towards them covered in webbing. 

'I'd hurry if I were you!' he wheezed.

Merry turning back to the task at hand said in an inappropriately calm voice, 'Sam, I'm going to need your help with this.'

'Just tell me what to do, Mister Merry.' 

Before Pippin even realized what was happening, Merry had a firm hold under his arms and Sam around his ankles, 'Wh… what in the Shire…!?'

'Heave!' At Merry's command, the two larger hobbits chucked Pippin at the web, his Elven belt slicing through the dark matter like butter scraped over too much bread.  Freedom!  Fresh air (well, no not fresh, they were still in Mordor after all, but fresher than the cave none the less) greeted them as they ran out of the tunnel, half blinded by the light of a searing noon-time sun.  Merry hauled Pippin to his feet and soon the hobbits were all speeding away from the horrors of _Torech__ Ungol_, past the clearing at its entrance and across a narrow rocky path that was caked in snow.  In fact everything had a fine thick layer of shinning white snow, (Frodo's doing, though they would never know it) but none stopped to ponder the matter.

 'Keep going, you hobbits!' they heard Gimli shout at them.  The Dwarf stood, battle axe at the ready, facing the darkness of the tunnel and waiting for the lady-of-the-house to emerge.  Merry and Pippin didn't have to be told twice, they high-tailed it out of there, leaving little puffs of smoke in their wake.  Sam however, slowed down his run.  

_Something tells me I need to be back there._

He stopped completely, and turned around to see Shelob emerge from the darkness, bleeding unnatural blood and cursing unnatural curses and trembling with fury.

'Well lassie!' taunted Gimli, 'Seems you're so angry that all lady-like-ness is gone from yer manners!  Not very appealing to the young gentlemen I'd think!'

'I'LL KILL YOU!' the spider seethed, 'EAT YOU ALL!'  

With a blur, eight legs thundered across the clearing closing the distance between spider and Dwarf.  Gimli wound up with his axe and swung, yet hit nothing but air as Shelob sprung.  Gimli threw his gaze upward ready to fend off the next attack, but the noon time sun cut into his eyes, obscuring his vision all the worse because of the lengthy time spent getting used to darkness.  Shelob landed with a tremendous thud atop the Dwarf, and attempted to crush him with the enormous mass of her bulk.

Gimli struggled with the weight, using both hands to try to push her back but the monstrous arachnid was too heavy.  

Suddenly the pressure stopped with a resounding  _fwang_! _and Shelob rolled off with a hiss.  Gimli looked up to see Sam, wielding a heavy skillet that was still vibrating from the blow he had sent up the side of the spider's head._

'Say no to tatters will you!?' Sam challenged, and then charged again, smashing the pan against Shelob's legs.  She growled more in annoyance than pain, but it was enough time for Gimli to get to his feet, and begin advancing, axe-blade gleaming.

Sam scurried all over the place, ducking under the spider, smacking a leg, circling around, smacking an eye, and so on.  This carried on for a time till the cat-and-mouse game came to a close as Sam prepared to come at the spider from behind but was shot with a long sticky web.  He fell to the ground with a thud, and struggled to free himself but ran out of time.  Shelob loomed over him, her body blocking out all light.  She drew her face closer, her fang-bearing appendage (or _chelicerae to all you arachnologists out there) dripping fat droplets of numbing poison, her stinger at the ready._

'I'm going to finish you off nice and slow…' she promised.

Sam shut his eyes tight and thought sadly, _I'm sorry I couldn't save you mister Frodo…_

But the fangs never touched his skin, rather Shelob screamed aloud in excruciating pain and rolled off from Sam and onto her side.  Upon opening his eyes Sam saw Gimli kneeling beside him, stained axe cutting the webs from the hobbit's body.  'Lucky for you these aren't so thickly woven as the exit was,' the Dwarf muttered.

They both stood up to see Shelob, lacking in two legs on her left side, dragging herself back to the safety of her lair.****

****'Well!' exhaled Sam with relief, 'that's done an' over with!'

'Not quite.' said Gimli who was reaching into a chain mail pocket for something.  Sam was at first curious then overcome by a sense of growing repulsion as he realized that Gimli was fastening a bib around his heavily bearded neck.  A bib adorned with a red sea-crustacean woven into the fabric.

'Coming?' Gimli asked, but Sam just shook his head a little more vigorously than was necessary.

'Well, suit yerself!'

Lobster bib set firmly in place, the Dwarf chuckled darkly to himself, and re-entered the darkness of Shelob's lair.  There was a moment of silence, which was then followed by a loud, '_NOOOOOOOOOOO, BUR, BUR, BUR!!!!!' _

Twenty minutes later, Gimli_ emerged from the cave with a large satisfied smile, sucking contentedly on greasy fingers.  Sam gave a visible shudder at the sight.  Casting the bib aside, a thought suddenly struck the Dwarf.  'Now where have those two lads run off to?'_

They looked around the snow (and other unmentionable-substance) covered clearing, but Merry and Pippin were nowhere to be seen.  They quickly jogged down the narrow rocky pathway; but still there was no sign of the missing hobbits.****

Suddenly, from around the bend they heard the jeering of fell voices.  Sam and Gimli hurried over to have a look, and there saw Merry and Pippin, harnessed like ponies to a large cart and hauling a squadron of whip-cracking, taunting orcs up one of the mountain paths.

'I'm beginning to not like this whole adventure thing, Merry.' Pippin muttered as one of the whips snapped precariously close to his head.

Three seconds later the orcs lay in random messy piles and Gimli began whistling a happily little tune as he chased the last gibbering straggler down.  Sam helped Merry and Pippin out of the harnesses.   They were seconds away from thanking the stout hobbit when out of nowhere a well-fed, blood-lust-fulfilled and genuinely slap-happy Gimli scooped them all up in his two largely muscular (and horribly sweaty) arms.  His grin was wide and he threw back his head and snorted in the air through his great hairy nostrils.

'Smell that lads?  That's the smell of victory!!!'

Pippin who was securely tucked under one offending pit struggled violently, slowed, and then fell still.****

'Wow Gimli, thanks ever so much for killing my younger cousin.  Really appreciate it,' muffled Merry, unsuccessfully trying to escape the dwarf's clutches.

 So, they were officially in Mordor now.  It wasn't so much the look as the feeling of the place that really emphasized their crossing borders into that hellish land.  It just felt wrong being there.  

Gimli set to work cleaning the blade of his axe with snow as Sam and Merry took in their surroundings, while Pippin lay in a wheezing pile on the ground.  

'Frightful isn't it.' said Merry without question.

Sam nodded in agreement, but showed no regret in being there.  If Frodo was out there somewhere, Sam was resolved to brave _anything_ to be once again reunited with the gentle hobbit.

Unfriendly terrain greeted them with every gaze.  Even the concealing blanket of gradually melting snow couldn't disguise the sharp jagged rock teeth that struck up from the ground.  And in the distance Mount Doom belched out molten mucus and snorted sulfur smoke.

'Well,' said Merry, 'our current enemies have been defeated, we're inside Mordor ready to continue our search for Frodo, and haven't lost any limbs or group members … I'd say everything seems to have come nicely together.'

 'Not everything….' said Sam.

_Meanwhile… Back at Helms Deep_

'Aww man,' said Legolas, 'I dropped my pants…'

_Back in Mordor_

'… everything.' repeated Merry.

KT SHY:  Aaaaand, that's it!  Oh lordy am I tired.  Anywayz, the next chapter refocuses on Sauron (still in Frodo's body for those of you who haven't been following the plot) and our favourite little… oh wait!  I mustn't spoil it!  Moo hoo waahhahaha!   I'll most likely not start writing that one until after I've seen "_Return of the King".  YEEEK I'm SO excited!  Are you excited?  I'm excited!!!!_

Quick Notes: Of course I know that Shelob doesn't say much (of anything) in the book/film… but who cares??? Ha ha!  Time-wise, I figured that the biggest part of the snow assault on _Helms Deep_ was launched while the small troop was wandering around for hours in the tunnel.  The worst part of the storm had already ended as they left the cave.  Hence Mordor, where the storm originated, is still covered, yet Mount Doom is working hard at melting the cheery-stuff… what a kill-joy.

Shagster: Hooooooly smokes!  Get EyeToy.  Get a foam sword.  Play the ninja attack on hard mode.  Relive the battle of Helms Deep!  (Fun fact: I've been celibate of buying a PS2 for 3 years now………………… but the ninjas forced me to.  To buy it.  And _Socoms…. and _Time Crisis_… _

(cough)

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	14. Conflicts of Interest

KT SHY: As I write this, it's 3:30 am December 18th and I've just arrived back from _Return of the King.  Wholey satisfied as well as a little sad at witnessing the bittersweet end of an epic, I extend my heart-felt gratitude towards all the cast and crew who made the film trilogy possible, and above all to J.R.R. Tolkien.  Thank you all so much for what you've given us.  I dedicate this (quirky yet straight-from-my-heart) fanfic to you._

Shagster: It's been a long time since I've tasted the saltiness of my tears…

Summary – Act 14: Conflicts of Interest: The Ring in his possession, Sauron in Frodo's form wanders lost in the woods by the Anduin River, finding conflict (and perhaps a reluctant ally) in Gollum.

Reviews (WE'VE PASSED THE 90 MARK! YEEEEEEE!):

_Starbrat_ ~ Hi!  Welcome back!  Yes, I realize I may have gone a bit over-the-top with spider abuse in the last chapter… she was trying so hard to be courteous after all, but rest assured, no Shelobs were maimed, eaten, and/or killed in the making of this fic!  It was all clever CG footage.  Regarding Boromirs and Haldirs however… well, that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish …

_Fernie__ ~ Glad to be of service!  And yes… now that Gimli's _many_ hungers are satisfied there's no threat of him trying to eat the hobbits!  For the next twenty-four hours at least…_

_Darth T-Rex ~ _Aww, you're so sweet, thanks!  I do try to satisfy.  *chuckles happily* Hello to all your fellow LOTR fan friends at school too! *waves* LOTR is awesome!

_Nine-Fingered Emilee_ ~ Gasp!  You're new!  *waves ecstatically* Hello!  Waaaaaaitaminute!  You're _Miyako__ Inoue, Queen of Cheese in disguise aren't you?? Oooooooh.   Oh YES you will get some Faramir action soon!  I've got some really fun bits with him that I've been writing, and they're all ready to go up… I just have to push out some Sauron chapters so that all the plot threads can catch up with each other (don't worry!  I promise they'll be good!) And yes, there's lots more to come with our favourite Rohan-fellas Théoden and Éomer!  I can't wait for the next chapter either *bandages poor sore fingers and continues typing*._
    
    _YunSuks__ Chunsah ~ Aww, you're not evil, it's okay!  Yes Gimli was quite starving; they'd been traveling the road through Mordor but had eaten all their reserves in the first week.  I'd say he ate __most of Shelob, yet he'll not be carrying around a doggy bag to disturb the others with!  But now that Gimli's eaten his fill, what of our poor __hungry hungry hobbits?  Heh heh._

KT SHY: Happy New-years you guys!  Quick note, I'm moving these Author Notes and Thanks to the end of the chapter from now on.  And, as always, huge thanks and much sappiness to Shagster!!!

Shagster: Working on this fanfic is like a _tidal wave of maw'shalaid_! www.homestarrunner.com … I'm addicted.

KT SHY: _Wheh__' have all the pah'snips gawne?_

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    A quick note:  Here we return to Sauron's story (I keep forgetting I made him my main character, yeek!)  Time wise, we're going back a bit, as events that transpire here begin before _The Tall Troop runs into Éomer and his riders.  Thus it will be about a week or so until the __Great Storm Frodo sends from Barad-dûr to Helms Deepreaches our evil protagonist._

'Don't fret Aragorn. Things are not so dire as you think. Already Sauron is stumbling into the beginnings of a trap I have laid out, and if I do say so myself, it is quite a clever trap indeed!' - Gandalf (Act VIII: The Tall Troop)

Soap Opera narrator: Last time…ish on _Eye on the Prize…_

Sauron heard it then, the Ring. He fell upon all fours and crawled about quickly looking for the slightest hint of gold to catch his eye. The area was trampled and muddy with orc prints but he dug about and shifted his hands here and there.

Then he saw it.

Gleaming beautifully in the starlight.

'Thank Melkor!' he breathed with sigh of relief. Giddily he scrambled over towards the small trinket that was such a large part of himself. He extended a hand and placed it upon the cool smooth surface… as at the same time a cold, clammy, greenish-grey skinned hand fell on top of his. He looked up into a bulbous pair of luminescent, startled eyes.

'IT'SS OURSS, IT'SSS OUURSSS!'

'OH MY GAWD put some clothes on!'

Eye on the Prize

_Act XIV: Conflicts of Interest_

The forest was cold, blue mist rising from the earth in delicate spirals.  The dull light of fading twilight fell in soft beams through the trees above, illuminating clusters of mushrooms and moss covered rocks.  The rustle of undergrowth gave away the presence of a family of small mammals, but the creature slinking by took no notice.  His mind was preoccupied, senses all bent upon the thing that was calling him.  Steam rose off his naked skin but he felt not the bite of the air nor the stones and roots that dug into feet and hands that were already roughened from much abuse.  He had been traveling for so very many miles and miles and now finally he drew near to his goal.  

'We comes to it now, my love.  Yes we do.  We heard it calling we did, all alone and afraids.  _There_!'

The cry of the Ring grew louder.

So beautiful.  

So precious.  

Like the pretty sound of a rabbit screaming when caught by a fox.  Like the groan of mountains breaking the earth's crust.  Like the sigh of a terminal breath.  

How he yearned to caress the cool, dark, perfection of it once again.  
It lay before him, exposed and encircled within a beam of starlight that twinkled down through a tree-top clearing and reflected back into his eyes.

He reached for the precious thing but a slim white hand got there first.  Looking up quickly he encountered the face of a surprised looking hobbit.

'IT'SS OURSS, IT'SSS OUURSSS!' Gollum shrieked.  The hobbit shouted something back but the words fell nonsensical upon ears that were filled with the keening call of the Ring.  The hobbit pulled back, hand clenched firmly around _the precious_, but Gollum threw himself upon the thief.

'GIVE IT TO USSS!! NASTY, FILTHY HOBBITSES!' 

Much slapping and scuffling ensured as the diminutive combatants struggled for possession over the Ring.  The hobbit kicked out blindly as the last of the twilight faded and Gollum recoiled with a hiss.  Every time Gollum sprang forward he was met with a stinging smack, and it wasn't until he stopped for a quick breather that he realized with some satisfaction that his enemy's swings were sporadic and all-over-the-place… which meant that he couldn't see a damn thing! 

Their fighting had moved them deeper into the wood where the stars were all blocked out.  Having spent most of his time in darkness, Gollum held the advantage of excellent night-vision, and seeing that the fight was in his favour he melted back into the shadows while the other swung frantically at nothing but air.  Fighting was one thing, but _tricks_ were his specialty and so he circled around the hobbit, watching as the aimless flailing continued. 

When a few moments passed without incident, the hobbit slowed his kicks and punches and stood still, desperately trying to listen for any tell-tale signs of Gollum's approach.  Nothing moved, save for the wafts of steam that rose into the chill air from his breath.

Gollum's attack was fast and without warning as he sprung forward and grabbed a handful of brown curls, forcing his enemy face-down into the ground.  Grinding the hobbit's head firmly into the dirt with one hand Gollum reached over with the other and began pulling painfully on the fingers that trapped the _precious_.  All the while the Ring screamed.  Gollum knew it was screaming for him to rescue it. 

Sauron was in a world of uncomfortablity and pain and all too aware that the Ring was entering a kind of panicky unreasonable state.  It was hard to ignore the excessive noise that lambasted his inner ear.

_Help!  Help!  Auuuuuugh!  Noooooooo!  I don't wanna goooooooooo!  Save me Master, SAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEEEE!_

'It's hard to concentrate while you carry on like that,' Sauron muttered through clenched teeth to avoid getting a mouthful of dirt. 

_Nononononono__, don't let him take me again Master!  I don't want to go with him I want to stay with you forever and ever and -_

'Why, I thought you'd _WANT_ to go the way you two hit it off soooo well while I was away.' 

The Ring gasped in a hurt kind of way that suggested it had just been betrayed by its best friend.

'I was being sarcastic.' Sauron muttered by way of apology, 'Don't worry I'm on to something.'

While Gollum was tearing at his right hand for the Ring, Sauron's left hand lay innocently enough by his side… by the weapon he'd never really taken any real notice of until now.  He moved his fingers until they grasped the smooth handle of _Sting, he slowly pulled it out of its scabbard… then he stabbed up and over his back, grinning sadistically at the resulting squeal of pain._

Gollum leapt back, pressing against his wounded shoulder with a quaking hand.  Sauron stood up shakily, a half-grin slowly spreading across his face as he waggled Sting mockingly.  The tip of the blade was red.

'Some of yours?.... _Friend?'_

The cut itself wasn't serious, but when Gollum pulled his hand away to assess the damage - only to be greeted by a palm dappled in blood - he launched himself into a frenzy of _frenzical__ proportions! _

The smirk fell right off Sauron's face as Gollum ploughed him over.  The two flipped and spun, pinching ears and pulling nose-hairs as they struggled for domination not even noticing the steep hill until they were half way down it.  They landed with a thud at the bottom which knocked the air out of both of them.  Sauron had avoided landing on Sting by only the merest of fractions.  

The trees had thinned out by this point and over head the night sky lay across the world in all its magnificent glory.  Sauron blinked up at it stupidly while Gollum attempted to catch his breath.

'You know' Sauron began in a slurred semi-conscious voice; 'your devotion to the Ring is really quite touching.'

'T-to each is ownses.' Gollum replied in a wheeze.

They lay there for a time.  

Gollum was the first to move.  Getting onto his hands and knees he crawled over towards a large grey stone, lifting it up casually, and then crawled back over to Sauron.  The Dark Lord watched impassively as Gollum drew nearer, his own physical strength was more-or-less spent.  Gollum lifted the stone up hiiiiiigh over his head when…

'Wait…'

'What is it wants now?'

'Just one request… really simple, I promise.'

Gollum was quiet for a moment, then held out his hand in a _hang-on-one-second gesture, and scampered off a short distance to have a long and very heated argument with himself, which freaked the Dark Lord out to no end.  _

Then Gollum returned.  'We've thought it out… and we's decided no lasst requestes.'  Up came the stone again, and Sauron held out both hands this time to ward him off.

'No no!  Really simple, I promise, I just want you to look me in the eye while you do it… that's all.  That's not too hard is it?' 

Gollum was getting impatient; the stone wavered again, but he finally agreed, 'Alrightses.'

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup came the stone, and Gollum looked down into the eyes of Sauron.  On the surface the eyes were a pure blue… but when forced to look deeper… hellfire and immortal god-like wrath and malice stared back.  Gollum shrieked - _he knew those eyes, __oh yes he did - and jumped back, dropping the stone, but Sauron was up in a flash, one cold and surprisingly strong hand fastened securely to Gollum's wrist.  _

He laughed, 'Oh ho ho ho ah haha haa HA! Yes, you recognize me now don't you?  Remember all the fun you had in my _Tower_?'

Gollum tried to pull free but Sauron tightened his grip savagely.  'You've suffered greatly in Mordor, and I could _EASILY_ repeat the whole process over again, slower this time of course but, Ha!  Whacha gonna do?'

Gollum stopped his struggle as a flood of memories came back to assail him, and fell onto the ground in a defeated heap.  Sauron released him, and gave himself a mental pat-on-the-back for his clever evilness.  He regarded the sobbing creature for a moment, then crouched down beside him.  

'I am the Lord of the Ring. It and I are one and the same, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better.  But as I mentioned earlier, your devotion to it is really quite extraordinary.  So I'm offering you a chance to redeem yourself.'

Gollum looked up curiously, scrubbing at a face filthy with dirt and tears.

'Serve me,' Sauron said, 'Serve the Master of the _Precious_ –' he emphasized this last word – 'and all will be forgiven!'

The truth was Sauron needed Gollum if he were to get back to Barad-dûr.  He'd realized it the moment he recognized the creature as they bumped into each other over the Ring. Gollum knew the way in and out of Mordor (from the countless times he'd travel the place for reasons Sauron didn't even want to think of) and it would be handy to have a guide lead him the safe route home.  Sauron's spirit may have been immortal but the body he possessed now wasn't… if he fell from a cliff or drowned in an unseen bog, it would put a major set back in his plans. 

'Come, swear you'll serve me and we can be on our way.'

Gollum was quiet, contemplative…

'SWEAR IT!' Sauron shouted impatiently, grabbing Gollum's arm painfully.

'W…we swears to serve the master of the precious!'   

Sauron released his hold, 'Good!  And STOP that sniveling.  We'll rest here for a time, but then after that we'll set out to Mordor.'

Gollum looked up sharply, Sauron didn't miss a beat, 'No, no, no, you're in my service now, it wouldn't do me any good to bring you to further injury.  I just need an escort to help me on the way home, that's all.  I promise you won't be harmed.  In fact you'll be rewarded!  For Sauron treats his friends very well.'

Better to say _escort_ rather than _full-out guide, Sauron didn't want Gollum to know he held the upper hand when they reached __Emyn__ Muil or any of the other stupidly dangerous places that surrounded the borders of his realm.  _

_Why didn't I just get a dog, he thought to himself, _a really big dog.  Then there'd be no need for all the ridiculous obstacles I'm going to be facing over the next few weeks._ _

The Dark Lord rubbed his hands together (one still in a fist holding the Ring) and plopped down onto a patch of grass.  He refused to fall asleep, not trusting Gollum for an instant, but his (Frodo's) aching body needed rest, so he rolled onto his back and started up at the night sky… hoping to see some falling stars, or exploding planets, or something similarly entertaining.

Gollum rubbed absent mindedly at the wound on his shoulder, staring angrily at Sting where it lay glinting on the ground, his own blood smeared across its tip.

_You hate it don't you, Sméagol._

Yes, he did.  But more than the biting elven blade he hated the one that wielded it.  Having spent so much time within the dungeons of Barad-dûr, Gollum knew the Great Eye for what he was; he'd recognized him instantly within the face of the hobbit.  How such things came to be Gollum neither wondered nor cared.  But that he should now be the servant of the one who had hurt him so…

Gollum reached a hand up from his shoulder and over to his back, alighting upon numerous scars that had dulled with time in pain and visibility, but still carved red-hot streaks through his mind.

The Dark Lord had declared himself one and the same with the Ring, but Gollum knew this to be false.  The Ring was sweet, the Ring was calm, and the Ring would never ever hurt him… unlike some people…

** Mordor was his enemy, of that he had no doubt whatsoever.  But the enemies of Mordor were even less dear to him… in fact he recalled a certain event that happened many months ago…**

_**Flashback a couple months**_

Gollum sat tied to a chair, his sensitive eyes squinting against the glare of the single overhanging lamp casting its harsh spotlight upon him.

'…we were just walking around…'

'Who's "WE"!?  Who's this other person you keep talking about!?  Who are you in league with!?' demanded an irate Gandalf.

'We don't know!' 

Aragorn backhanded Gollum into submission.  'You may be used to the other way around, but this is bad cop, bad cop!'  he said as Gandalf started to light Gollum's ears with a zippo.

_**End flashback**_

_Actually, Gollum thought to himself, __all things considered Mordor was a little nicer… they didn't ask any questions._

So anyway, the point was this.  The Ring was the _only _one he could depend on.  And thus he would rescue it.  Then HE'D be the Master of the Precious… so he really wasn't breaking his promise at all!  Not that Gollum minded breaking promises.  Yes, he'd serve the _Master of the Precious, the same way he'd been serving __himself for years.  His eyes fell upon Sting again, and his hands began to pick up and mold clumps of damp earth for the clever plan that had just entered his poor depraved little mind._

The grass felt nice on his back and the wind in his hair definitely held some kind of appeal as Sauron rested.  He watched a few stars wink out and streak across the sky, then quirked his eyebrow up as one changed direction mid-streak and hurtled down straight towards him!  He gave a shrill little-girl scream and rolled away as the hurtling ball of death smashed just where he'd been.  He stood up, clearly shaken, and stared at the fire-ball… or more accurately, the Great Giant Burning Eye……...... of Frodo!

'YOU!' Sauron shouted pointing, 'how'd you escape!?!?!?'

The burning eye shook off a few muddy clumps, then regained its composure, 'Oh, you know… disguised myself as a walnut and just kind of rolled out of there…that kind of thing.'

The Dark Lord's jaw slacked open.

'Anyway that's not the important thing,' the Eye of Frodo was clearly uncomfortable with the subject and decided to change it, 'The point is… _yoooooou__ killllllled meeeeeeeee…'_

'No I didn't!'

The E of F ignored him, 'And yoooooou will be huuuuuuunted by three spiiiiiriiiiiits…'

'But I didn't kill you… wait, _haunted_ or _hunted?'_

'Piiiiiiiiiiiiick ooooooone,' came the myssssteeeeeeriousss respooooonsssse.

'Dur… uhhhm… '

Suddenly the E of F grew in stature, and became so enormous that it filled the whole of Sauron's vision, he took a step back, hand raising as if he hoped the gesture would ward off the monstrous flaming visage which turned pink and bubbly…  

And then Sauron realized with a curse that he'd been _dreaming.  _

He sat up quickly pinched his cheek REALLY hard, yelped in pain at the pinch, opened his fist, was relieved to see that the Ring was still there, closed his fist, and then looked over at Gollum who still sat in the same place he'd been sitting before.  Looking a little _too_ innocent for Sauron's liking.

'Master needs his sleeps, so we watches over to keeps him safe.  We swores to protect him we did, to escorts him to Mordor.' Gollum smiled… very creepily.

'Huh,' snorted Sauron, irritated with himself for dozing off.  Then sarcastically, 'Protect me, eh?  Could you protect me from yourself?'

'Nope!' and with that Gollum sprung, as he was so very fond of doing, at Sauron.  Sauron was aghast to see that Gollum wielded Sting, the handle caked with mud so that he could touch the elvin weapon without any discomfort.

'GRAAAAAAH!'

'EEEEEAAAAUGH!'

Gollum drove the blade down, but hit only grass as Sauron rolled out of the way, struggled to his feet, and started to run.  Gollum recovered quickly and began chasing him all over the place, laughing maniacally while he did so.  Sauron rightly assumed this meant Gollum no longer held any fear of him.  

The chase continued for the better part of the night, Gollum clearly not giving up and Sauron clearly not in favour of being gutted.  He ran on and on underneath the trees, narrowly avoiding tree trunks and roots, although he had rammed into a deer somewhere along the way, and was constantly tripping over squirrels and other such cuddly roadblocks.  The air was growing damp and he was aware of a thunderous roaring to the left of him somewhere through the darkness of trees and bushes, he continued his sprint forward.  

He burst through a brown and leafless berry-growth but at the last second gasped and grabbed onto the branch of an old tree he'd almost passed by completely.  The branch saved his life, as he'd almost run straight over a cliff edge.  The earth crumbled where he'd been standing, causing stones and dirt to fall away making quiet splashes far below.  To his direct left, the great waterfall of Rauros, thundered past and fell in a giant grey curtain.  At least he now realized the source of the roaring sound, but the realization brought him little comfort as he attempted to pull himself up higher onto the dangerously creaking branch.  

With his back to the precipice he struggled to get a safe hold, fingers digging into the tree bark.  A noise made him look back down the path from which he had run.  

'Oh no, no no no, STOP!'

But Gollum kept on coming, Sting glinting ominously, eyes all crazy, yelling horrible things.  There was nothing else to do.  Sauron used the branch like a gymnastic bar, swinging under and kicking into the gangly creature.  Gollum was forced to a screeching halt by the contact, but the blade sailed on, falling over the edge and out of sight.  

Then the branch gave a terrible cracking sound.

Both Gollum and Sauron looked up at the source of the noise, then back over at the cliff edge as the branch decided the three should become better acquainted.  

_SNAP!_

And with that Sauron the Dark Lord of all Middle-Earth and Gollum… an addict with serious psychological problems, tumbled down Rauros and to the depths that awaited below.  

Downstream from the falls, a small rabbit (actually it was a moose with an identity crisis but that's not important) was snuffling about on the shore.  It scampered about looking for tasty greens under the tall lush trees.  Alerted to something _eeeevil_ approaching, it stood up tall, the moonlight making its fur shine as silver.  Then it bolted.  

Sauron dragged himself out of the river and onto the shore gasping and sputtering, clutching handfuls of dirt and sand.  He continued to pull his exhausted body away from the water, wondering why it felt so heavy.  When he finally stopped crawling and sprawled soaking and practically lifeless on the shore, he looked back to see the reason for the added weight was that Gollum (clearly unconscious) had managed to maintain a death grip on his ankle.  

He contemplated kicking the stupid creature a few times, but decided it would take too much effort, and so decided in favour of passing out instead.  

The last thing he saw through a haze of water droplets, tree trunks and grass, was the green hem of a robe.  He tried to look up to see who the wearer was, but by that point he was already cradled in darkness.

KT SHY: Doooooooooooooooone!  Yeah, not that much humour in this one, I'm sorry, but I was trying to get back into some plot with these two, so _that_ had to be established first.  This is part action/adventure after all.  If you need a humour fix I strongly urge you to go take a peek at this fanfic I stumbled on last night and finished reading… said same night… "Roomies" by Pointy-Eared Archer… it just kept me laaaughing and laaaughing!

On a completely different note: Having thoroughly enjoyed writing Eye on the Prize, I've begun to take it quite seriously (shocking I know, it began happening around Act 8…) When I say _serious _I don't mean content wise, it's still meant to be dumb fun, but I've noticed QUITE a few plot holes (For one, way back in the first chapters with all the crossing of the Anduin; I never wrote it down, but Sauron would have had to be carried back across the river so that the Uruks could continue their trek west to Isengard.  I just kind of had everyone cross to the eastern side, then the next thing you know the Tall Troop and Sauron are magically back on the west while the Small Troop continues east.  There was also the matter of how the Uruks crossed the Anduin to follow the fellowship (it's pretty deep and I hardly doubt they'd be able to pull a _Pirates of the Caribbean_ stunt and walk).  SO I've gone back and fixed up a few original errors, cleaned up the dialogue a bit, and added a few things I thought were interesting.  SO, if you've nothing critical that needs doing, why not take a peek at the fixed up chapters?  

As always, if you notice any MAJOR screw ups (that go outside the excuse of humor) please tell me… as chances are I won't pick them up.  It's been about two years or so since I started this thing and I didn't notice until now!  That's the price you pay when you write chapter to chapter rather than getting the whole picture in mind and work with that.  I've learned my lesson though, thank you very much!

PLEASE REVIEWwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!


	15. Wind chimes and Cinnamon

KT SHY: And now for your annual dose of Eye on the Prize! (Author comments and review stuff is NOW at the bottom…!)

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Eye on the Prize

_Act XV: Wind chimes and Cinnamon_

Sunlight accompanied by the tinkling song of wind chimes streamed through the little window leaving a bright square upon the pillow.  As the minutes ticked by on a small wooden wall clock, the square of light traveled across the feather pillow until it rested upon the closed eyelids of the bed's sole occupant.  There was a slight groan, then the lids lifted partway to reveal slivers of blue.  The small figure laid there for a while, uncomprehending, a warm wool blanket tucked all the way up under his chin.  He began to hazily take in his surroundings… a small room, single wooden door, trunk, dresser, cabinet, Gollum mid-air brandishing a pillow…

'GOLLUM MID-AIR BRANDISHING A PILLOW!' Sauron cried as Gollum bore down on him, the intent of total smotheration and annihilation in his eyes.

'WE KILLS IT!'

'AAAAAAAAAARGH!'

Then a voice came from the far side of the room accompanied by the smell of baked dough and cinnamon… and fish, 'So this is where you've scampered off to… oh good!  Your friends awake!'

Gollum immediately ceased his barrage and scampered off the bed towards the source of the voice.  Sauron shoved the pillow off his face and sat up gasping, feathers everywhere, his bleary gaze darting to where Gollum was running circles around the figure who dropped a large silvery fish down to him.  

'I just fished it out with no time to prepare it… but you specified _uncooked, so…' clearly a woman's voice.  She looked up from Gollum to smile at Sauron and upon meeting her gaze he froze._

_Lúthien__!?_

No.  When he looked again he wondered how on Middle-earth he'd been able to make the connection in the first place.  It was something about the look in her eyes when he first met them… but upon closer inspection, there was nothing.

She stood there smiling blithely, framed by the doorway, a tray of indefinable baked goods in her hands.  She had an eastern look to her. Not exotic but plain, with her dark hair wrapped in a neat bun, a few curly wisps hanging around her ears, forehead and the back of her neck.  Her age was difficult to judge as well, she could have been anywhere between 42 and 44. 

No, now that he looked there was nothing remarkable about the average brown eyes planted in her average brown face, which attached to her average sized body.  

_A little thick around the waste, he noted with his usual jack-assed way of thinking, __but average, average, average. _

Lúthien Tinúviel this was not.  

'Fancy something warm to eat?' she smiled through beautifully white teeth.  But receiving only the look-of-death from the other side of the room, she set the tray down on the dresser.  'I must say, I haven't had many visitors here in a long time.  I don't have any guest rooms to speak of, but I hope you've found my room to be comfortable…'

Glare.

Her smile faltered a bit, but she continued trying to make light conversation 'My names Yurival… what's your name?'

Sneer.

'Umm… okay, you don't have to give me your real name or anything… what would you like me to call you?'

Glare.

'Oh… OH!  I think I get it, I'm so sorry, you're mute aren't you?'

'No jusst antisssocial.' said Gollum smirking at Sauron from behind Yurival.

'Well that's good,' said the woman regaining her bright composure. 'If your still cold there's a fire downstairs, I just need to get it going again…'

Cut-eyed glare.

'Alright then!  If you'll just follow me…'

Sauron had no idea how a cut-eyed glare could be interpreted as 'okay _I'm coming' but decided to follow for lack of anything better to do._

They descended down a small flight of wooden stairs and into what must have been the living-room.  Yurival rolled up the sleeves of her dress in preparation for fixing the dying fire that was situated in the stone fireplace.  Slightly beefy arms pulled out a metal poker from the rack of tools beside the hearth.

The colour of her dress was familiar, Sauron noted, and he recalled that the last thing he saw before fainting (or "taking a strategic nap" as he referred to it) on the shore was the hem of a _green_ robe.  As if in answer to his thoughts she began to speak again…

'I found you down by the shore,' she said stirring the fire back to life with the poker, and then hanging a kettle on the overhanging iron hook.  'Tea?'

Getting only a nasty sneer in response, the woman prattled on.  'So I carried you both, with a little bit of difficulty, back here –'

'What's "_here_."' Sauron cut her off sullenly, finding the nicest looking chair in the room, and sitting upon it hoping there was enough muck left over on his clothes to eternally stain the fabric. 

'Amber-lei… it's the name of this cottage.  Named so because of the garlands of yellow flowers that are strung up everywhere.' She held up a hand gesturing to the flowers and Sauron felt an overpowering urge to punch her for her (in his opinion) lack of interior-design-sense.  There were indeed golden flower garlands everywhere; hung over the fireplace, across the top of every door frame, up along the stairwell and bordering the windows.  It was quite charming in all actuality; the entire place had a sweet rustic atmosphere… so of course Sauron hated it.

'And there are even more outside,' she said proudly, 'If you'd been awake when I brought you in you'd have seen them woven into the thatched roof of this place!'

The kettle gave a low whistle, and Yurival scooped up a floral printed cloth to prevent her hands from burning as she transported it from living-room to kitchen. Gollum trailed after her in a jaunty crawl, leering at Sauron as he left.

It was at this moment that Sauron realized he was in hell.  It was the only way to rationalize this world of flower petals, cedar smoke, peppy middle-aged women and bake goods that he was trapped in.  He hadn't survived the fall off Rauros, but died a bubbly death instead… and now he was paying dues for eons of misdeeds.  And to top it all off…

'THE RING!' he slapped a hand dramatically over his own mouth, eyes darting over to the kitchen, but the happy house-keeper didn't appear.  He exhaled slowly.  What followed next was a hasty panicked searching of his own person amidst clenched-teeth curses and barely audible profanities… the combinations of which were astounding!   The conclusion… no Ring.  He was about to put a hole in something (preferably valuable), when…

_Maftehr__?_ Sauron barely heard the muffled voice.

'Where are you!?' he hissed quietly.

_I'm begiffin' to ferioufly douft vou care avout me …vou keef forgettin I'm even hea'w…_

'Shh, quiet down, quiet down,' he didn't want Gollum to hear its voice, 'where are you?'

_'n youh' fand!_

When Sauron had just stood there for a few minutes without any idea as to what the Ring had said, it gave an exasperated sigh and tried to elaborate, _Youh__' fand! Dow' heah'! Da fing you do fings wif… like eaf focolate and scraff youh a-'****_

'Oh…oh!  My hands!'He brought them up to his face grinning, but was confused by what he saw.  Although his brain had long ago sent the signal for them to unclench from their punch-hole-in-something-expensive mode, the right hand remained in a stubborn fist.  He looked at it curiously, tried to will it to open, tried to PRY it open with his other hand… but no such luck.  Then it hit him.  He rubbed his jaw where he'd punched himself, but it _also_ hit him _figuratively speaking, as he came to the realization that all along he'd been holding the Ring in his right hand, starting from when he'd grabbed it last night in the forest, his fall from the cliff, even the struggle to shore; that he'd managed to keep it clenched so long only to find it still in the same position… implied that it had frozen that way._

'You've _got _to be kidding me.' Once again he tried to force it open, using all his strength to pull at the thumb and fingers.  Then he started biting them but that didn't work too well either.  Having failed that, he cast about looking for a tool of some kind to aid in his endeavor.  

His eyes fell upon the poker that Yurival had used to get the fire going again.  Since he'd spent a lengthy amount of time as a being of flame, it never occurred to him that fire might hurt, so he picked up the smoking poker, stuck the pointy end into the gap between his fingers, then let loose a string of curses _so loud and _so_ foul that they would have made orcs weep to hear them._

***

'… so, you seem to have come a long way.' Yurival poured the steaming water into a brown pot containing two teabags, when the substances mixed a sweet vapor rose into the air smelling of fruits and nutmeg.   Gollum's eyes drooped a bit but the cunning part inside snapped him back to attention.  

'Yess, we hass.  Not that it'ss any of its businesss.'

'No I suppose not,' the woman placed the lid on the teapot, cutting off the aromatic steam.  What she did next surprised Gollum; she turned, crouched down like she would to speak with a child and regarded him at eye-level.  

'What's your name little fellow?  I just realized I never asked!' there was no hint of repulsion, suspicion, pity or fear in her eyes.  _This above all things he was not used to.  _

'We… we iss called,' but at that moment Gollum went into a coughing fit where many '_hackglackGollumGollumsweetmaryjosephGOLLUMcoughcough'_s could be heard.

'Aha!' said Yurival standing up and grinning, 'Your name is "_Coughing-fit_!"'

'It'ss _Gollum_.' he said recovering.

'Gollum it is!' 

Suddenly a string of curses so foul they made Gollum's eyes well up with tears blasted from the living room. 

'Oh dear, I hope he wasn't trying to eat the wall plaster,' Yurival's eyes widened as she turned back to Gollum, 'no offence but your friend seems to be a rather confused individual.'

'Amongsst other things,' Gollum replied ironically, following as she sprinted into the other room.

By the time they reached the living room, Sauron had already pulled out the poker.  He whipped it back into the fireplace and began writhing about in such considerable amounts of discomfort that he didn't even notice Yurival had picked him up and was carrying him at arms length back to the kitchen until she dunked the burned hand into a washing basin… which was filled with water… cold water.  Obviously.

'Keep it there for a few minutes, I'm going to get some bandages and ointment!' she darted out of the room with a twirl of skirt and jiggle of arm flab and ran up the wooden stairs to her bedroom/attic. 

Sauron sighed contentedly as the cold water took its healing affects on his hand, then sent a nasty glare at Gollum who'd climbed up onto the stool beside him, perching like a frog, and grinning cruelly.

'Doess it hurt?  We bet it hurtss right and nassty, hot pokerss has that affect.'

'I'll bet this scene pleases you to no end.'

'More then it knows, _preciouss.' With much emphasis on the last word, Gollum's eyes directed knowingly down upon the burned hand.  'What has it got in its handsess, preciouss?'_

'Wouldn't you like to know,' Sauron shot back feeling more agitated by the minute.

'Oh, we think we doess.' the grin widened.

'Well whatever you think it is, once the bandages are applied you obviously won't be getting at it for a while, so HA!'

Gollum just shrugged and climbed off the stool mumbling to himself, 'It thinkss that doesn't it precious?  It doesn't know that if we cutss off its handses then we can take all the time we wantss.  We just need to wait for the right moment.'

Sauron's eye twitched and he resolved never to fall asleep again.

***

'… done and done.' said Yurival pinning the last strip of bandage in place to keep it secure.  'The ointment is top notch quality but still it'll take a while before the bandages can come-'

'How long,' snapped Sauron ungratefully.

The woman placed a dark finger upon her lip in a thinking gesture, '… aboooout… a week.'

Sauron winced at this, his gaze involuntarily settling on Gollum who was inspecting a pair of wall-hung garden sheers with interest.  He brought the hugely bandaged hand closer to himself for protection.  

Yurival packed the medical supplies back into their tin, and then stood up regarding Sauron as if she'd never seen him before.  'Look at the state you are in!'

'Eh?'

'Flithy!'

'Now you DIE!!!!'

She politely ignored him, 'The bath's been drawn already and I'll give you some clean linens from my younger days, they should fit well enough, leave your rag-tag-gal clothes outside the door and I'll do my best to darn them.' And with that Sauron found himself shoved into the washing room, a white human-sized night shirt hanging over his good arm.

'And don't put the bandaged arm in the water!' Yurival's voice said from the other side of the door. 

'Meee meh muh meh meh mehm meeee!' Sauron muttered in a nasty imitation of her voice.

He dropped the night shirt on a wall rack and regarded the warm water with distain, 'Dark Lords don't take baths.'

But a polished bronze mirror in the corner caught his eye and he involuntarily jumped back in spite of himself.  _The Jolly Green Jiggler was right!  He __was a wreck!  Dark circles and sunken eyes protruded out of a face that was undernourished, frightfully pale, and covered in scratches.  A fair sized purple welt marred his left cheek where the Uruk-Hai had backhanded him earlier.  Dirty tangled hair rife with twigs, leaves… and he could have almost sworn he saw a weasel in there, but it scampered back inside to its nest before he could spot it clearly.  Then there were his clothes, clothes that were so torn his elbows and knees snuck out, red marks everywhere from all his crashing around in the wood.  'Okay… I guess Dark Lords can make exceptions.'_

He managed to remove the clothing with great difficulty because of the boxing-glove size bandage on his hand, chucked them out into the hall and hopped into the comfortably warm water.

'Not bad, not bad…' he mused relaxing.  There was a muffled undertone coming from somewhere but Sauron took no heed of it.  So, the Ring tired of being ignored by its master quieted down and went into a kind of dormant state of sleep.

For a few minutes things were blissfully peaceful.  But it wasn't too long before something Yurival had said began niggling at the back of his mind: 

_'The bath's been drawn already and I'll give you some clean linens from my younger days…' _

_'The bath's been drawn already...'_

_'…already…'_

'Hey, lady!' Sauron said loudly so that Yurival could hear through the door where she was picking up the dirty clothes.

'Hmm?'

'Was there anyone in here before me?'

'Well, now that you mention it, your little Gollum friend took a quick dip…'

Sauron was outta there in a flash, the weasel chittering angrily at its house's abrupt movement.

***

A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace (thankfully) as the occupants of Amber-lei gathered into the living room.  Night was descending quickly outside of the cottage.  Yurival placed a warm tray of newly baked goodies on the edge of the fireplace beside Sauron, who looked distrustingly up at her from where he was trying to dry his wet and already curling hair.  

'Go ahead, try one.' she said gesturing to the tray.

He was still trying very hard to be moody and uncooperative, but his stomach gave a treacherous growl, so sighing he complied.  

The pastry was flaky and good, filled with hot apple chunks mixed with cinnamon.  Even Sauron had to admit it was at least moderately satisfying, which he did so grudgingly.  Yurival's face lit up in its customary smile and she sat herself in a rocking chair facing the fire.  She picked up a pair of knitting needles, a string of thread and set to work sewing up the patches in Gollum's loincloth.  The owner of which was currently scampering about the room in an oversize white nightshirt, tripped on the hem, then began rolling around in circles biting at the fabric.  

Yurival's laugh was clear and cheerful, 'I like that little guy… he's like a really happy puppy!'

'Yeah, that's right… _happy_ _puppy,' muttered Sauron through a yawn recalling his many bumps, cuts and bruises supplied by said puppy.  _

'What's your name?'

'S- rodo.' He'd never be sure whether or not she had picked up on the near slip up, her eyes showed nothing.  Maybe he was making something of nothing, but the question had been asked unexpectedly and as soon as his guard was down… not that it mattered… why should it?  It didn't.  But something about the barely visible almost triumphant looking smile in the far corner of her lips irked him.

For a minute all was quiet save for the _click, click, click_ of Yurival's needles, Gollum's antics as he moved his fight with the night-shirt into another room, and the crackle of fire.  Sauron turned his attention upon the latter.  He watched the orange and blue claws tear greedily at the rotten logs for a long time.  The heat of it bore into his cheeks, slowly drooping eye-lids, and the skin under his nose.  Then Sauron, enemy of all free nations, fell asleep (once again, despite himself) by the hearth. 

TBC (Thank Booze for Concentration)

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KT SHY: Awwwww!  *cuddles Sauron* No wait!  BAD!  BAD SAURON! *starts smackin' him with a slipper* 

Now for the Reviewers!

_Nine-Fingered Emilee~ Yes, Faramir'll be showing up in (checks) Chapter 18, so only a few to go.  WOW!  Almost at the big 100, eh?  I'm pretty amazed myself!  I never really expected this to go anywhere after chapter 1!  Party!!! *runs around trying to catch the catapulted hobbits* AHHHHHH! *thud* Ohmahgawd, Sam are you okay… wait… oh it's just the Ralph Bakshi Sam… never mind.  _

_Starbrat_~ No sympathy for the devil, eh?  That cat-fish scene at the beginning of ROTK gave me nightmares…

( ^ both reviewed the day of my update… thanks for sticking with me you guys, sniffle)

Hope you all enjoyed the winter break now that school's back in session… groaaaaan.  Please gimmee reviews pleeeeaaaaase!


	16. Leaving Amberlei and the Crossing to Gon...

KT SHY: Hmmm… I think I've realized the reason behind the disturbing lack of reviews for the last couple of chapters.  It must have something to do with the lack of slash content!  Yes, I'm a businesswoman at heart and I know what you want, so here we have a trial run of Eye on the Prize… with slash!......... it's best to picture the characters with big black mustaches and then read the dialogue aloud with over-the-top British accents.

'I do say Legolas,' said Aragorn twirling his long black mustachio seductively, 'dare I be so bold as to inquire that I place my hand in your pocket?'

'Heaven forbid you be shy in your suggestions, my good fellow!' replied Legolas.

'Well then as a gentleman of such man-loving stature, I must comply!'

'You beast!'

Yeah……………………………. it just kinda goes down hill from here.

Summary: When Sauron switches bodies with Frodo, it's an all out race against time (with the Fellowship on his heels) to get the Ring back to Mordor! NEW: Act 16: Leaving Amber-lei and the Crossing to Gondor: In which stuff happens. Oh, so much stuff! Please RnR!

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Eye on the Prize

_Act XVI: Leaving Amber-lei and the Crossing to Gondor_

The first couple days at Amber-lei were peaceful for the most part and melted by without too much incident.  Sauron remained as surly as ever, but Gollum had taken quite a liking to Yurival, trailing her wherever she went (which became kind of awkward at times, Yurival had to use quick "Look over there!" tactics then slam and lock the door whenever she had to make use of the bathroom).  Gollum enjoying the attention she gave him… it had been a long time since he'd been treated like a person.

Sauron rolled his eyes in distain at this.  'You won't find _me taking a shining to the wench.' he muttered while pulling a baked pie out of the oven._

'What the!?' he dropped the pie.  'Since when does the mighty Sauron help bake pies!?!?!?'  He tore off the frilly apron he'd been wearing (another reject from Yurival's "younger days") and sprinted out of the room, weirded-out by his lapse of rational behavior.  

He sped through the family room (still wearing pink oven mitts) and nearly crashed into the homemaker and her Gollum-y shadow.  

'Oh Srodo!  There you are!' she smiled.  'I was wondering if you could do me a little favour!'

'Depends on how little,' he groused.

She handed him a basket, 'I need some vegetables picked from the garden for our supper tonight, if you please.'

'You know what would please me…?' he began with a wicked grin, but in the next moment found himself out in the garden, the sun on his back, picking vegetables.

'DAMMIT!  How does this keep happening!?'

Then a frightful thought slammed into mind.

Was the Hobbit body finally taking over?

'No, that's preposterous…' but then again, he wasn't too sure.

He glanced over his shoulder back toward the cottage; Yurival was sipping a cup of tea, watching him from the window.  She waved cheerily only to have the gesture returned by a very un-gentlemanly one.

Sauron turned back to the vegetables, 'Stupid woman.'  He plucked a radish out from the brown earth, dusting the clumps off with his bandaged hand.

Bandaged hand.

Why was it bandaged again?

The Ring!

He'd forgotten about it again, not having heard it speak in…

_How many days have I been here anyway? he thought, clarity slowly returning.  _

Then he looked scrutinizingly at the radish still in hand.  Red, plump, crisp…

'This will sure be tasty on the salad!' he said cheerfully, then slapped himself across the face.

_Sweet Morgoth!  _Am I loosing my mind?_ he panicked inside.  There was something about this place.  Amber-lei.  It was too easy to fall into the flow of things here.  He looked again at the radish, forcing all _pleasant _thoughts of it to the far reaches of his brain, and instead focusing on the logic of the situation._

'It's the beginning of March.  You should not be here.' Ignoring the strange implications of talking to vegetables, he began to seriously take in his surroundings.  The garden was fair sized, and ripe with lush vegetation.  Tall trees bloomed with fruits and flowers, and green vines crawled around the stone wall that surrounded everything.  The air was warm.  There was no suggestion at all that it was winter.

He focused again on the wall; the land beyond was misty and vague, and it was hard to keep his eyes on it.  He felt his concentration being forced back to the task at hand.__

'No… fight it… fight it!' he started stabbing himself with the radish trying to regain clarity.

He crouched (splattered with radish juice) down onto his calves and tried to think.  Then he addressed the Ring.

_Oh!  So you're finally thinking about me now, eh?_

'Okay, okay, I'm sorry.  Look, exactly how long have we been here?'

_Since when have you been the type for philosophy?_

'I mean as in _here_ here!  Smartass.' 

_Seven days to be exact._

'Seven!?  But, it's only been a couple… you're just saying that to get back at me!'

_No, it's true!  the Ring defended, _You've just been too busy playing "reluctant house-wife" to realize it!  By the by, you look pretty cute in an apron "Srodo."__

'DAMMIT!' Sauron used his favourite catchphrase.  

Dropping the battered radish, he stood and turned to glare back at the cottage.  Yurival was no longer in the window, having instead gone off to get some fish for Gollum.

'There is something very wrong with this place.  And we are leaving tonight.'

The Ring squealed happily.

It was time.

***

'… leaving!' Yurival exclaimed looking a little bit worried, '… but you've only just arrived!'

They'd been sitting (except for Gollum who was perched on top of his chair) at the dinner table, finishing a supper of fish, bread and salad.  

Sauron pushed his plate away and got to his feet.  'Yes, and well… I'm bored.  No, no, it's not you… well _mostly it isn't… okay actually yeah it __is you.  So, __ta_ ta_!'  _

Yurival stood up, looking slightly testy, blocking his way to the front door.  Sauron tried to scoot around her but every time he did so she would move to keep herself between him and the door.  She crossed her arms, 'I won't move until you at least give me a _good_ explanation as to why you're leaving so suddenly.  You're acting all irrational.'

He growled, and then thought for a long minute.  'It's…………hmm………my family, they're all sick… so I've got to visit them.'

She dropped her arms, 'Good heavens!  If it's like that why didn't you mention it sooner?'

Sauron exploded, 'BECAUSE IT'S CONTAGIOUS, ALRIGHT?  If I mentioned it I'd get everyone sick, HAPPY!?  Now if you'll excuse me…'

'So that explains your aloof behavior! You were just worried about your loved ones!   That's so sweet!'  She reached down and pinched his cheek… he vowed silently to get her back for that one day.  'It's a sad situation.  But it's nice to see people still caring about each other in these dark times.  So where is it that your family lives?'

'Mor-' he stepped on his own foot to prevent the slip up, 'More toward the East… and down… down a bit South.'

'Well, alright then!  Obviously you'll need some help getting there, so I shall accompany you…'

'NO!  Um… you can't because…' he searched for something clever to use as an excuse, 'you're too old!  And, you'd probably die on the journey.  Then I'd have to bury you.  See?  Then it'd take me foreeever to get to my poor sick family.  Now who's being irrational, hmm?'

Gollum looked up from his raw unseasoned kipper with interest.  Having lived in a matriarchal society way back when (governed by his own terrifying grandmother) he knew _how and __how-not-to treat a lady.  He wondered if the green clad woman would belt the Dark Lord for his tactlessness._

But to his disappointment, Yurival was as calm and collected as usual.  'Don't be silly, I wouldn't die, I'm not _that old, but if you're referring to me getting too tired from the travel, don't worry about it.  I've walked many, many leagues in my time.' She gestured with her chin toward a rack near the front door that contained many well used staffs, each more ancient and decrepit than the next. 'And besides, who would know this area better than me to help you along your way?  Hmm?'_

Seeing no point in continual argument, Sauron complied.  'Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure.  Alright.'

'Good!  Then tomorrow after tea we'll get ready to set off to your family's home.  What do you think Gollum?'

Gollum shrugged, finishing his supper.

Sauron nodded, but inwardly resolved to sneak out, ditching them both in the early hours of the morning.

***

At around three in the morning, Sauron opened the bedroom door and peered down the stairs.  From over the top of the railing he caught a glimpse of Yurival sleeping on the couch and Gollum curled up by the fireplace.  He bit his lower lip, and begun the arduous trek downstairs, painfully aware of every creek and groan the old wood made.  When he reached the bottom without alerting the sleepers, he padded into the kitchen, stealthily raided the cupboards (he'd learned the hard way that mortal body's tended to like food) and went about in search of a blade of some sort to remove the bandage that lay between him and the Ring.

_Hurry!  Cut me free!  Cut me free!_

'Shhshutupshutup' he whispered, looking over toward where Gollum snorted, then began kicking his leg out in sleep.  Sauron's eyes roamed over toward the pair of garden sheers that hung on the wall.  The one's he'd have to cross over Gollum to get at.

Should he chance it?

_No, he thought, __Too_ risky.__

_What is? asked the Ring obnoxiously loud._

'One more word out of you…' he let the threat hang on the air as he retreated back toward the front hallway.  He'd just have to find a sharp stick or rock along the way.  But now he was facing another problem.

He was finding it exceedingly difficult to get the door open.  Not in a physical sense, it was only woods and the latch looked easy enough to lift.  But it was if something was squashing all his _will_ to do so.  There was a  very persistent urging that he turn around and head back up those stairs, into the soft bed, and go back to sleep, abandoning this folly.  Why bother traveling the long road ahead?  Why not relish in the comfort of warm fires, hearty meals and sweet teas?  Amber-lei had everything a good Hobbit needed.

'I… am not a good Hobbit…' he growled, straining against the inner conflict, fighting against the voices, 'I'm… the biggest badass this side of Middle-Earth!'

He slammed the latch and pushed the front door open, then froze at the sound of jangling bells which had been nailed to the top of the frame.  Throwing all caution aside he tore through the exit and onto the front porch.

Done and done.

He took a deep breath of free air, but started wheezing and hacking as the air was frigid and stung at his nose and lungs.

A blanket of snow covered the earth that hadn't been there the night before (Frodo's doing; but like the _Small Troop, Sauron didn't know this) and all he could see was dead and frosty landscape stretching out to meet a dusky orange pre-dawn sky.  _

Sauron paused.  

He'd been right, something was not adding up.

After all, he had been out in a lushly vegetated garden just the other morning.

In fact he remembered dwelling on the oddity of there being a lushly vegetated garden present _at all in the waning months of winter… _

So…

He was tempted to look back and see if the cottage now mirrored this state of ice, but somehow he knew that if he looked back at it he would be drawn inside against his will and into the peaceful stupor that had claimed him for the past week.  

_Keep walking,_ he ordered himself, and did so, trudging through snow that came all the way up to his knees.  He hadn't gotten far before…

'Where'ss it going?'

'MORGOTH IN HELL!  What are you a stalker!?!?!?' He tried to collect himself after leaping a mile at the voice. Gollum's head had just suddenly popped out of the snow, everything below the neck covered in white powder (since he crawled rather than walked).

'No, jusst a groupie.' Gollum moved forward to catch up with the Dark Lord, his head cutting through the snow like a shark fin in water.  'Where the precious goess, we goes.'

'Not if I have any say in it, so shoo… shoo!' he made swatting gestures and chucked a pile of snow which only missed because Gollum dove back down into the white earth.  And didn't come back up.

'Oh shooooooot…' Sauron looked around, uncertain of where the creature was, but knowing with growing certainty that Gollum would leap out at him.

Then he felt a tremendous pull on his ankle, and down he went.

For a moment things were once again calm in the forest.  There was the pleasant sound of a little creek flowing beneath a thin layer of ice.  A winter bird chirped.  Then Sauron and Gollum came bursting out of the snow for air.

Sauron gasped, 'By Ungolianth's ugly hide, it's FREEKIN' COLD out here!'

'That's why I brought along some cloaks for you two,' said Yurival causing the two males to jump in surprise.  They hadn't heard her come up.  'And some gloves and a scarf; honestly you children are all alike.'  

Not taking _no for an answer she pulled the two smaller figures to their feet, brushed off the snow, fastened the cloaks and scarves and firmly shoved woolly mitts onto their cold hands._

'There now, much better I should think!  It's a lovely crisp morning but there's no reason to freeze to death enjoying it,' she grinned surveying her handiwork.  Then taking a look around, she reached a hand into the snow and plucked up a white fluffy old dandelion (something that once again defied the laws of nature, but Sauron had seen it happen too many times to care any longer).

'These are good signs.  Make a wish on the fluffs you two!  For luck on our journey,' she blew on the plant, sending little pale tufts up and off to be carried away by the wind.

_Let me get away from these idiots,_ prayed Sauron, hands enfolded and eyes clenched in concentration and intense frustration.

_We wishes we gets the preciouss_, wished Gollum, and then in after thought while glaring over at Sauron, _and gets our ssweet revengess on this chumpsess._

_I wish for better luck in future relationships, _wished the Ring soulfully, _I mean, I know I've got a great personality, good conversation skills, and so much more to offer, but all the men in my life just want me for my body!_

The wishing out of the way, Yurival nodded while adjusting her hat, re-shouldered her provisions-pack, said aloud, 'Shall we?' then with a click of her walking stick, set off along a path of her choosing, leaving Sauron and Gollum with little choice but to follow.

***

The celebration to commemorate Rohan's ridiculously successful defeat of Isengard was a forty-eight hour affair.   There were spectacular fireworks (apparently the _Powers-that-Be_ hadn't sent Gandalf back to life empty handed), good food, good ale, and music that filled the whole of Edoras and rang out clearly over the night covered plains.  And no one a day over the age of majority went home sober.   

So it wasn't too surprising when a _very_ intoxicated Aragorn – covered in party streamers - stumbled out of the Golden Hall in much need of fresh air.  He breathed in the deep, dark night, positively glowing from the effects of two-days merry-making, and exhaled contentedly.  His attention was (very gradually) caught up by a light that was beaming from the nearby mountain top.  He stood there, on the front porch of Meduseld, staring at the small firey phenomenon, uncomprehending its significance.  

After three hours it finally dawned on him, 'Th' bacons!'

He turned around, his arms waving and body trying to go one way while his head kept trying to face the beacons.  When he was finally capable of coordinating himself, he slammed through the doors and ran/traveled-in-a-perpetual-state-of-falling-down toward his destination. Then he stumbled and spilled onto the floor, 'Th' bacons!  The bacons aw' burnin'!'

'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' cried Éomer overdramatically, and then passed out where he remained dangling halfway up the wall, tangled in banners.  The past few weeks had been rough on him.

Théoden, sitting sideways on the throne with his legs hanging over the edge, glared at Aragorn from under a cold compress, 'I'm in no mood for breakfasht.'

'No, naw' th' bacons……………………… th' _bacons_!' Aragorn tried to emphasize the difference.  'Th' baaaaacons aw' on fih'yuuuuure!' Then he promptly passed out from retardedly excessive alcohol intake, head thudding against the floor.

'OH!' said Théoden, realization arriving swiftly, then, '…wait…...' and finally, 'OH!  The _Beacons_!' 

He leapt off his throne, posing king-like on the podium, nearly falling down the stairs in the process, "Well it'sh in my inebriated opinionion..ion that we go help Gondor, what shay you?'  Getting only approving mumbles from the few occupants in the room still conscious, Théoden _sealed the deal_ so-to-speak and went staggering out the door to find where he'd left Gamling.

'Well, that was pretty convenient…' mumbled Gandalf mysteriously from where he lay under a pile of empty beer kegs.

***

_Gondor__… earlier that day…_

'So, you sure these are the best cigars in Minas Tirith?' Denethor interrogated the guard.  They were both way up on the highest level of the city, the wind whipping their cloaks about.

'Possitive m'lord.'

Grunting, Denethor opened the box, brought a cigar up to his lips, lit it, and then took a few experimental puffs.

'Terrible!' he yanked it out of his mouth and threw it behind him with distain… where it landed atop the hay-stacked pile of the _Beacon of Gondor_.

'Uh, sire?' said the guard, who had a clear view as the embers of the cigar caught fire and began to set the hay ablaze.

Denethor, who was facing the guard and thus unaware of what was happening behind him, ignored the man completely. 'Oh,' he lamented, 'when will I _ever_ find anything that's worth smoking?'

Triumphant music abruptly started playing (around the 2:30 mark of ROTK Track #4) as the Mountain Range Lighting Sequence began in earnest; watch tower to watch tower setting their beacons ablaze across the expanse of Gondor and all the way to Rohan… the result of which incidentally, if seen from above, looked like a long snake.

***

_Elsewhere… _

Saruman (not _Sauron_, in case you read the name wrong) was nearing the end of an agonizingly long walk home.  In each hand he carried a piece of his ebony Wizard staff, cracked in half by Gandalf at Helms Deep.  He was completely and utterly dejected, and the future looked grim.

His Uruks…… gone.  His Staff of Office…… broken.  Chances of getting the Ring…...  lost. Odds of survival once Sauron realized he'd sent his own troops after the Fellowship without authorization only to let the Ring fall into the hands of the enemy ……

Saruman whimpered.  

At least there was Isengard.  Even with everything else gone to hell, Orthanc would remain; its finely polished stone floors, its everlasting black exterior.  

Yes, let Middle-Earth destroy itself in the upcoming war.  It didn't matter, he still had Isengard.

Saruman mounted the final hill, and there sprawled below him… was Orthanc, just as he'd left it.  

He sighed contentedly, looking down across the plains to his lovely tower.

And there was Wormtongue, waving from the window, grinning with a stitched smile… and looking more hand-puppety than usual.

'Everything's fine, you don't have to come any closer!' he shouted waving back and forth.

'Oh I think I do,' said Saruman, 'I need a nightcap… a _very potent one at that.' The outcast wizard rubbed at his throbbing temple as he continued marching towards his home … then tripped over it with a _crack_ and landed in a sprawl on the grass._

'Wh… wh… WHAT!?'

Had the laws of perspective turned against him?  He looked back to see if he was crazy, or had suddenly become giant and traveled a couple miles in one stride.  No, there was nothing wrong with _him_, but there was Wormtongue, kneeling beside a small model of Orthanc, wielding a crudely made puppet of himself.

Wormtongue looked sadly at the model his boss had broken, 'You… killed it!'

Saruman rose unsteadily to his feet, 'You'd better have a DAMN good explanation…' he stuck his hand out for balance and was surprised when it hit something.  He looked over slowly.  What he'd thought at first to be a distant range of mountains and a cloudless sky… was in fact a very large and skillfully painted board.

'What IS this!?!?'

Saruman knocked over the painting in a rage, only to be greeted by a site that he never in all his long years thought he'd see.  

The destruction of Isengard.  

The real thing.

No fooling.

Water flooded the entire area, streaming from the shattered dam.  Steam rose from the iron works in vaulting heaps. Every weapon of mass destruction was obliterated. Dead orcs floated as far as his eye could see. And Orthanc was cracked in half, the top part _dangerously_ close to falling off… which it promptly did so with a deafening splash.

All was deathly, bitterly, agonizingly silent for a long time.  

Then Wormtongue said with forced surprise, '………………………………. who did that!?!?'

TBC (To Be Catapulted…………………… into space!)

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REVIEWS!  As… in we beat the 3 digit mark!  Woot!

_Ainu Laire ~ _*points* You!  You're new!! *starts jumping around squealing for joy* Welcome to Eye on the Prize!  I hope I can manage to keep you amused and entertained for as long as is humanly possible!!  And muchos gratitude for helping me get up to the big 100!  Sauron's story has finally caught up more-or- less with everyone else's by this point… or at least with the _Small Troop; I use the Storm of Frodo as reference. The _Tall Troop_ is still a little bit ahead.  Yarr, I caught onto those spelling errors too, but I must have missed making few corrections, thanks for bringing it to my attention! ("__Endoras"… what the heck was I writing about, horse riding Ewoks?) _

_Nine-Fingered Emilee ~ _"Elrond's Gambit"!?  I think you speak for us all when you say "WTF?"  Man, I shoulda got those EA guys to give me more ideas for Stupid Special Move names!  (Awww, it reminded you of the Super Sindarin Level Two Soul-Flash Spectacular?  That's sooo cute!)  Hmm… Gollum as a happy monkey, eh?  Actually that does make a little more sense… good suggestion, good suggestion.  And yes, monkeys are super!

_Tylec__ Asroc ~ Of course, I'm constantly self-parodying my work!  It confuses the heck out of the characters especially when they make a reference to something that should be, realize its not, and then just stand there looking confused for a couple minutes.  I always get a kick out of that!  Glad you liked "Jygumbous Arachnid"!  I remember sitting at the keyboard then yelling behind me to Shagtser, "Is Jygumbous a word?" "Um… no." "Eeeeeexcellent."_

_Darth T-Rex ~ _Go go gofers!  Here's more!

You guys reviewed so faaaast!  It's only the day after posting! Time for _huggle__ smotheration!!!_

_Starbrat__ ~ Sauron's such a tactless jerk sometimes.  Brrr… fish. *joins in the disturbing rocking back and forth*_

_Aranel__ ~ I'm so glad to finally meet you!  And I'm happy to hear that you're laughing loud enough to disturb others!! I do it all the time!  Plenty more Sauron and Gollum fun to come, for sure.  Thanks for reading!  _

_TO ALL YOU LURKERS_:  See people?  What Aranel has done is a brave thing indeed.  Come; show yourselves so that we may all partake in the healing process of this A.A meeting… er… I mean, Eye on the Prize reading………… (cough)

Welp!  I'm afraid this's all you're going to be getting out of me this month.  With school back in full force I need to focus on other things.  Chiefly the script for a Conflict Film that just doesn't seem to be wanting to get done… mostly because I want the story to be quirky but my group members seem to want student-film-serious.  Oh well.  

OH!  Have you heard the ROTK CD yet?  Isn't it nifty?  Billy Boyd has such a lovely singing voice, and so many of the tracks make we weep inside (and out).  I wasn't really sure what to think of "_Into the West" the first time I heard it at the theater (possibly because I was too wrapped up in emotion to fully appreciate its beauty), but the more I hear it the more I love it.  It's so lulling, and satisfying, and my heart swells every time I hear it. There's two ways I take the lyrics: First that it's being sung to us as the audience/readers/fantasy seekers… second it seems like an endearing song from Frodo's perspective dedicated to Sam, to when they will meet again in the Grey Havens.  Any takers?  What do you think?_

*skips off to play that CD one more time before bed…*


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